


If I Tremble

by SmoakingGreenArrow



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Porn, Aruba - Freeform, Baby making, Bartender AU, Bunker Sex, Camping, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Fuck Or Die, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, Honeymoon, NSFW, Olicity sexy times, Oral Sex, Pole Dancing, Porn With Plot, Smut, Smut Collection, The Hood - Freeform, Vaginal Fingering, Vertigo - Freeform, fantasies, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2019-06-15 08:36:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 60,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15409122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmoakingGreenArrow/pseuds/SmoakingGreenArrow
Summary: A collection of prompts and ficlets, with all the smut! Olicity sexy times are the best times.





	1. I'm not jealous! It's just...you're mine!

Find me on [Tumblr](http://smoaking-greenarrow.tumblr.com/), send me a [prompt](http://smoaking-greenarrow.tumblr.com/post/176168061889/smut-prompts)!

 **Anonymous** : “I’m not jealous! its just…you’re mine!”

* * *

 

Felicity walked into Queen Consolidated, two cups of coffee in her hands and a smile on her face. Not only had she been officially named partner, but she’d gotten laid last night.

Who said Mondays had to suck?

“Good morning, Curtis,” she greeted, waving her fingers around the white to-go cup.

Curtis cocked his head to the side curiously, but waved back. “How are you today, Ms. Smoak?”

“I’m great. Yourself?”

He nodded as she pressed the button for the elevator with her elbow. “I’m good,” Curtis stood up, seeing that he was losing her time. “Ms. Smoak, I actually wanted to talk to you…if you have a free minute at some point, ever, I mean- I know you’re busy but I have some ideas for tech that I think might interest you. At least, I hope they’d interest you.

She watched him for a moment, seeing a lot of herself in his bright, nervous but optimistic energy. All it had taken was the right person to recognize her talent, to give her a stable first stair to start her climb up the ladder to success.

She wouldn’t be where she is now if Ray Palmer hadn’t seen potential in her. Her creativity and her ideas. If he hadn’t taken the time to listen when she had something to say. Gave her a place to speak her mind. And she’d only been his secretary. Curtis Holt was at a much more respected position than she’d started at.

Felicity smiled, “okay, Curtis. Come by my office around 4:30. Show me what you’ve got,” she added a wink as the elevator doors opened. Turning too quickly, she bumped right into a solid chest, vaguely registering the broad shoulders that hadn’t been there a moment before. And then there was hot coffee scolding her chest as the cup in her right hand crushed between her and the giant figure taking up her space.

Well, some things never changed.

“I’m so sorry!” The man exclaimed as he reached out to steady her. “Felicity?”

Her eyes flew open, forgetting the burning on her skin and recognizing the voice. “Ray? What are you doing here?”

“I had a meeting with Mr. Queen. He seems to think there’s a mutually beneficial deal to be made between Palmer Tech and Queen Consolidated.”

Her eyes narrowed, “oh he does, does he?”

Ray hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “You didn’t know? Aren’t you a partner in QC?”

“I am,” she cleared her throat, irritation rising because now  _she_ looked like the idiot. “Sometimes Oliver…forgets to mention things,” Felicity gritted out.

“Yeah,” Ray shrugged, “he seems like kind of a jerk.” Felicity pinched her lips together, not saying a word. “Well, I guess I better get going.”

She forced a smile, “it was good to see you, Ray.”

“You too, Felicity. You know you’re always welcome to come back to Palmer Tech.” He gave her that dazzling, prince charming smile. “I miss you. I mean, we all miss you.”

She’d left for a lot of reasons. The first of which being that she wanted to start her own company. That hadn’t happened yet. But QC was only the next step in that plan. The next rung on her ladder. And the Queens knew it. The other reason she walked away from Palmer Tech was that dating her boss had gotten too complicated. Too risky.

Felicity chewed on her lip as she stepped into the elevator, wondering how she’d gotten herself into virtually the same mess.

 _No_ , she shook her head at herself, letting out a deep breath. This was different. This was just fun. 

Casual.

And Oliver was her equal. Well, when he wasn’t trying to cut deals behind her back he was.

Her heels clicked down the hallway as she rounded on his office, and Oliver’s eyes were already on the door when she pushed it open, hearing her coming and waiting so he could watch.

His eyes roamed her legs, looking at them like he hadn’t just been between them the night before. 

He took her in as if he’d been starved for months, rather than the few hours they’d been apart. And despite her irritation, she understood the feeling. There was such a striking and undeniable spark between them.

Felicity rounded his desk, taking a seat on top of it. His hands found her waist immediately, pulling her closer as his fingers roamed over her thighs, slipping under her skirt. Then he noticed the coffee stain on her clothes, and he frowned. Standing up, Oliver unbuttoned her shirt without a word, “what happened to you?” He asked, carefully getting a look at her red skin, his eyebrows furrowing at the irritated burns.

“I ran into Ray Palmer in the elevator,” she deadpanned, undoing the rest of the buttons he’d abandoned. Oliver wisely pressed his lips together. “Literally, ran right into him. The only bright side is that this was your coffee,” she flashed him a smile, taking a sip from her cup. “After being embarrassed over spilling a hot drink all over myself in front my ex…he tells me that you’re trying make deals with him?” She glanced up at Oliver under her lashes, her eyes harsh but her fingers reaching for his tie.

He eased her blouse off, dropping it to the desk while she got to work on his shirt buttons. “I don’t plan on doing business with Ray Palmer.” Oliver grumbled as if it was the most ridiculous idea. As if he hadn’t spent the past year hiring and promoting a woman who came from Palmer Tech, so impressed with her knowledge and work ethic that he’d made her partner.

“No?” She asked, pushing his shirt off. He helped, letting it drop to the floor. Her shoes followed, kicking them off beneath his desk. “Then what exactly were you doing with him?”

“I just wanted to meet the guy. You talk about him like he walks on water.” Oliver explained, bracing himself with one hand on the desk as he started pulling his pants down.

“You wanted to know if you’re better than him,” she mumbled, her voice full if disbelief.

Oliver shot her a look, telling her not to push it. He wrapped an arm around her middle and picked her up, lifting her from the desk so he could unclip the button on her skirt. He’d removed it enough times to know how, and he tossed it across the room with a sigh. “When are you going to tell him?”

Felicity raised an eyebrow as he set her back down on the desk, coming between her legs. She hooked her ankles around her waist, running her hands over his shoulders, “tell him what?”

“Felicity,” he warned, giving her another one of those looks.

She rolled her eyes, slipping her hand across his chest. He shivered as her fingers skimmed his abs, and then she dove them into his boxers. “When am I going to tell my ex boyfriend that you and I are…”

Oliver’s eyes rolled closed, his breath coming out in uneven pants as she stroked him. She thought he was thoroughly distracted, but apparently this was something he didn’t plan on dropping. “Yes,” he finally answered, his eyes opening and his hand coming to grip her wrist, stopping her hand as she touched him. Her thumb slowed where she’d been circling the tiny droplets of cum on the tip of his cock. 

She licked her lips and heard him groan.

Staring up at him, Felicity was intrigued by the persistence in his eyes. She wasn’t going to get what she wanted until they had this conversation.

It wasn’t like they didn’t talk. Their connection; how easy it was to be together, how powerful it felt whenever he was inside of her, was exactly why they both knew what they had was worth the risks.

But it wasn’t like he could take her out. She’d never be the date on his arm.

Knowing that made it seem useless to discuss past lovers or future plans.

“Felicity…”

“I owe Ray Palmer a lot, but I don’t owe him  _that_ ,” she shrugged, pushing Oliver back until he fell into his chair. She slid off the desk and knelt in front of him, hearing him sigh in half irritation, half excitement.

He looked like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stop her or not, and she took advantage of his hesitation, pulling his boxers down and letting his cock spring free.

Oliver’s head fell back against the chair as she stroked him up and down with her hand. And then she leaned up on her knees, taking his length into her mouth and swirling her tongue.

Just like he always did, Oliver picked his head up to watch, his hands burying in her hair. One of her favorite things about them was that he always seemed to read her perfectly. He knew exactly when to pull her hair, to rock his hips into her mouth, when to be rough.

And he knew when to be gentle.

Oliver smoothed her hair, pushing it behind her ears and running the ends of it through his fingers.

She liked this just as much. When he sat back in appreciation, when he let her do what she wanted with him; happy to sit back and watch her red lips wrap around his cock and suck until she made him come.

“Felicity,” he whispered, making her look up at him. He gritted his teeth, biting back a soft groan.

Another check mark in a box that kept her coming back to Oliver; he loved eye contact. Nothing made her feel more desirable than when he insisted on seeing her face, looking into her eyes as he fucked her. “Felicity, I…I just think…oh,  _fuck_ …” he moaned once he realized that she didn’t plan on stopping. He could talk all he wanted. 

His fingers slid over her throat and up to her cheeks, his eyes darkening as she blinked up at him. Oliver squirmed, gently moving her head back until she released him with a loud pop.

And she pouted. Actually  _pouted_ that she wasn’t sucking his dick. She’d definitely never felt like that before Oliver came along. Never enjoyed it this much.

Oliver huffed, shaking his head as he smiled down at her. He kissed her lips, “I need to talk to you. And I can’t do that while you’re doing  _that_.” She smirked against his lips, wanting to know what else she could distract him from. What else he’d lose track of if she was screwing him. 

Having that effect on the playboy Oliver Queen made her feel something strong.

But it was also just  _Oliver_. The same Oliver who had made her breakfast after their first night together. The same guy who, for  _months_ while they got to know each other, never hesitated to check with her, to make sure she was okay, before he touched her anywhere she might not like.

Now he could tell with one look at her whether he needed to slow down, tease her some more, or fuck her harder.

Yet he was sweet, and having a sweet, attentive, insanely hot guy who loved their sex as much as she did was borderline addicting. She always wanted him. Meetings when he’d take control of the conversation and the room…it never failed to turn her on. Or rare, quiet mornings when she’d wake up before him and watch him, resting comfortably in her bed with adorable pillow lines on his face and perfect messy bed hair. 

Even when they argued, she never thought about anyone else.

The chemistry was always there. It’d been him since the day they met.

“Felicity,” he sighed, pulling her up off her knees. He guided her into his lap, which seemed like a dumb idea since now she could feel him against the curve of her ass. And  _that_ was distracting. He wrapped his arms around her, looking up into her eyes, “I just think you need to tell Palmer about us.”

“Why?”

Oliver let out a frustrated breath, “because the guy still calls you constantly!” he complained. “He drops flowers off here at least twice a month! He’s your ex, and he needs to learn how to let go,” Oliver growled, glancing away from her, “it’s ridiculous.”

“You’re jealous,” she breathed, staring down at him. Because Oliver was really not the jealous type. But damn it if she didn’t enjoy it, her heart fluttering a bit that it actually  _bothered_ him if another man gave her attention.

“I’m not jealous! It’s just…you’re mine!”

Her eyes widened, and as he stared at her, his did too. “Since when am I yours?” She asked, trying not to smile at the look on his face. 

His eyes darkened at the challenge in her stare, “have you been with anyone else since the first night we spent together ten months ago?”

“No,” she shook her head, biting her lip. “Maybe we just have good sex,”

Oliver didn’t take his eyes off of hers as he stood up, guiding her legs to wrap around him. 

She was so wet, and he was so hard, he pushed into her effortlessly. 

“This feels like something a little deeper than good sex,” he grunted, pulling out of her and thrusting back in as if to get his point across.

She gripped his shoulders, closing her eyes and rocking her hips to meet him. They moved together, Oliver touching and kissing her in just the right spots. “It’s okay if you want to be mine, Felicity,” he mumbled into her neck.

Opening her eyes, she glanced down at him, not seeing even a trace of the ‘asshole who gets off on breaking hearts’ she’d been warned about when she’d first started working for him. She swallowed, nodding once.

The smile he answered with was beaming, so much innocent joy crossing his features that the idea of wanting to make him smile like that forever popped into her head. And…that was terrifying.

Oliver had never been associated with forever.

They fucked. They enjoyed each other’s bodies and had fun with the time they spent together. That was what they did.

So, she might have a crush on him. So what? How could she not, after almost a year of working with him almost every day? Playing with him almost every night? That didn’t mean they could be together. It didn’t mean they  _should_.

Pushing himself into her fully, Oliver kissed her. She could feel her walls throbbing around him, needing him, begging him to fuck her like both their bodies craved. 

And when Oliver groaned, Felicity quickly realized how long, and how  _thoroughly_ , she’d been falling in love with that sound.

“I want to be yours too, Felicity.”

She ran her fingers through his hair. 

The fact that they could talk like this in the middle of some of the hottest sex she’d ever had was misleading. They laughed constantly when they were together. She was never afraid to try new things with him. And she’d mistaken that comfort and trust for a fling. In reality, it wasn’t meaningless at all. The way they could be themselves with each other was truly the key, the most important piece she’d been neglecting. It actually meant everything.

“It’s never really been as casual as we thought it was, has it?” 

Oliver pursed his lips, shaking his head and giving himself away.

He’d realized what they meant to each other. He knew how he felt about her, and he’d probably known that it was mutual, too.

He recognized that they were in love long before she did.


	2. What? Does that feel good?

_Find me on[Tumblr](http://smoaking-greenarrow.tumblr.com/), send me a [prompt](http://smoaking-greenarrow.tumblr.com/post/176168061889/smut-prompts)!_

_“What? Does that feel good?”_

* * *

 

She’s asleep by the time he gets home.

Oliver stops in the doorway of their bedroom to watch her for a moment. Her mouth is hanging open, her chest rising and falling with her tiny breaths. And her eyebrows furrow as she dreams.

The house was quiet when he came in. All the kids are in bed, the lights are dim aside from a welcoming path from the driveway to their bedroom, leading him to her.

And he knows he’s late.

Keeping his promises to Felicity and their family has become one of his top priorities ever since he got his life back on track.  _Their_ life. But any time he slips, he’s the one who punished himself the hardest. A late night at work was hardly an issue. He’d texted Felicity earlier to apologize, but the problem wasn’t working late.

The problem was that he’d told his family he would be home in time to make dinner.

Oliver’s assistant definitely thought that he was going to murder him when he came with the news of an emergency meeting.

The empty pizza boxes on the counter in the kitchen were a sign that his family hadn’t starved. Surely, it was a hit with his junk food lovers, and he doubts that his wife or his children were disappointed about it. But still, nothing makes Oliver more anxious than when he has to go back on his word.

It was the thing that almost broke his marriage.

He’d promised to always come back. And then he hadn’t.

Felicity has moved past their issues enough that the cancelled dinner plans didn’t even phase her. But for him...it’s different.  

Oliver comes into the bedroom, closing the door gently behind him, knowing that all three of their kids were sound asleep in their own beds.

He runs his index finger across Felicity’s cheek, the smooth skin that is so familiar to him. He brushes her hair back, pushing it past her ear so he can see her gorgeous face better. It was still crazy to him that in the hours between their routine goodbye kiss each morning, and when he came through the door each night, he always missed her.

Felicity turns her face toward his hand, a soft sigh escaping her lips. He smiles, squatting down beside the bed and appreciating the perfect glow on her skin. She’d fallen asleep watching sitcom reruns, and he slowly pulls the remote out from under her arm to turn the TV off.

Setting it on the nightstand, he looks back at his wife, combing his fingers through her hair. He doesn’t intend to wake her up, knowing from her texts that she’d had a rough day at work. Even more reason that she probably preferred the greasy, cheesy pizza from Basil’s instead of the smoked salmon he’d planned on making.

Oliver chuckles to himself, wondering if she would have made him stop to pick up dinner there anyway. His hand grazes through her soft blonde waves, smoothing down the crease from the hair tie she’d pulled out before falling asleep.

He should get up and get ready for bed himself. But he doesn’t move, enjoying the gentle way she leans into him, her nose brushing against his wrist as she lets out a content sigh, her sleepy reaction telling him not to stop.

With a sigh of his own, he shakes his head, scratching his fingers along her scalp as he considers how absolutely smitten he is with his wife.

Felicity groans as he mindlessly strokes her hair, twisting his fingers into the blonde strands. His eyes dart down to her face, biting his lip as she mewls. He glances down at her stomach, at the barely visible evidence of their third child together, the bump that really isn’t visible unless you knew to look for it.

Her tank top is bunched up above her hips, and she kicks her legs, pushing the blanket down and revealing the curve of her ass under the tiny shorts she’s wearing. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly and telling himself to cool down.

Pregnancy always sent her arousal up a few notches, her stamina so high that he sometimes struggled to keep up with it. Not that a few rounds would be a problem for  _him_ tonight, but she was exhausted.

Yet it’s hard to ignore the tiny whimper on her lips, the way her hips wiggle like she’s looking for  _him_ , her body seeking him out. And it’s very,  _very_ hard to pretend he doesn’t notice when her nipples start to pebble beneath the thin material of her tank top.

He leans back, letting out a deep breath and standing up. He can already feel himself hardening, just thinking about their past adventures with her sex drive while she’s pregnant. All the positions she’d ask him to try, how sensitive she was to his to his touch, the fact that her orgasms seemed to hit her harder...and  _louder_ , than usual.

Turning towards the bathroom, he forces himself to get ready for a nice cold shower.

“Where are you going?” Her groggy voice asks, stopping him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, looking over his shoulder to smile at her, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

As she sits up, Oliver’s eyes instinctively land on her breasts again, the hard, stimulated nipples that he just wanted to  _suck_. “Come back here,” Felicity grumbles, rubbing her eye with the back of her hand.

He nods without question, crawling onto the bed to lie beside her. Felicity turns toward him as soon as his head touches his pillow, wrapping her arm around his waist and pulling herself closer. She presses her cheek against his shoulder, kissing him there a few times before she nuzzles her nose into his neck.

Oliver closes his eyes, resting his hand against her back and giving her a comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry you had a bad day today,” he whispers, his breath blowing through her hair.

In response, he feels her shrug. “Why don’t you make it better?” Felicity mumbles back after a long moment, and he kisses her forehead.

He reaches for her chin, to turn her face toward his so he can kiss her, but she catches his hand. Slowly, Felicity guides it into her hair, her eyes fluttering shut as she whimpers, gripping his fingers and clenching them in her own hair. He raises an eyebrow, staring down at her as he takes her cue.

“Yes,” she sighs when he clenches her hair in his palm.

“What? Does that feel good?” 

She doesn’t confirm or deny. Instead, she moans. “Harder,”

Oliver obeys, raking his hand through the length of her hair before starting at her hairline again, gripping a fistful between his fingers and giving it a gentle tug. He’s rewarded with another tantalizing moan. “Oh, Felicity,” he breathes, using his hold on her hair to tip her head back so he can finally kiss her.

And she gasps, the sound excited and surprised as she quickly climbs on top of him. Making quick work of his buttons, his shirt is off in a matter of seconds. Then in the blink of an eye, she’s ripping off her tank top and throwing it across the room. 

His fingers dive into her hair again, pulling her back down to kiss him. His tongue finds its way into her mouth as she hums... _purrs_ , from above him.

Moving one hand between them, he rubs his knuckles against her sex, feeling how wet she is through her shorts. “Oh god,” he groans, quickening his pace.

It’s perfect. She’s perfect. And she rocks her hips into his hand, grinding down.

He’s about ready to tear through the remaining fabric between them, desperate to thrust into her as wildly as she’s pulsing under his fingers.

But Felicity pulls back suddenly, and his eyes fly open as she hurries off the bed. She drags her shorts over her waist and steps out of them. Oliver follows suit, pushing his hips off the bed and removing his own pants.

Once he’s rid of them, he glances back at Felicity, his breathing heavy as he reaches for her waist, to pull her back on top. She moves back, dancing away from his hands and opening the drawer on her nightstand.

Frowning, Oliver keeps his eyes on her, watching as she rummages through it and comes out with a hair tie. Felicity combs all of her hair back, tying the elastic in a neat, familiar ponytail, her eyes never leaving his.

A moment later, Felicity bends her knee, resting it on the mattress by his feet and leaning over. She offers the perfect view of her glistening folds. As if his cock isn’t already throbbing at the sight, Felicity turns her head to look at him, her hair falling against the smooth, tanned skin of her back.

“Holy  _fuck_ , Felicity,” he says around a breath, scrambling to reach her. He grabs the pillow from behind his head as he stands up. Then he turns her around, gently pushing his palm against her back so she’s bent over the bed, her head comfortable on the pillow. 

Felicity wiggles her hips, humming her agreement as she plants her feet on the floor, spreading her legs.

He lines himself up with her center, plunging into her from behind with a slow, heavenly movement, feeling every inch of her as she takes him inside. And then he waits, reveling in the warm, throbbing heat of her walls as he stretches her. Felicity pushes up onto her hands, moaning, her hips rocking back in shallow thrusts.

The ponytail in front of him is too compelling, too sexy, too enticing.

Oliver wraps his hand around the length of her hair, pausing as he hears her choked gasp. But then she’s nodding wildly, and he pulls.

Felicity lets out a passionate cry as her head lands on his shoulder, her walls squeezing around his cock as he fills her. He buries his face in her neck, pounding into her recklessly while she bucks against him.

The feeling of her arousal coating his cock and their thighs makes him drive into her harder, sliding in and out with ease. He sucks at her neck, biting and nipping along her skin. His hips jerk into her roughly, and she matches every move, so in tune with his body.

With one hand on her hip and one still wrapped up in her ponytail, Oliver feels her back begin to stiffen. Her legs begin to shake, and he grunts loudly, waiting until he’s sure she’s  _just_ on the edge of her orgasm.

And then he drops his hand from her waist to her clit, rubbing it with harsh, quick fingers and giving her an extra jolt of pleasure. Earning a gorgeous, throaty moan that has him pumping into her faster.

He’s still moving as she comes down, her body shaking, his palm pressed against her throbbing, wet sex.

Oliver bends them over when she slumps against him, spent. He folds his body on top of hers and guides her back down to the pillow. He kisses her cheek, shallow breaths on her skin as he pumps into her with his last thrusts. 

Her walls still pull him in, and the breathy smile that graces her face is all it takes for him to join her. He grunts as he feels the heat rising quickly from his chest, his toes curling with the hot rush of pleasure.

It makes him come, the satisfied laugh that falls from her lips...and her name grumbles in the back of his throat as he empties himself inside of her.

“Oh  _god_ , do I love you,” Oliver breathes, his cock jerking with his orgasm.


	3. Don't kink shame me.

_Find me on[Tumblr](http://smoaking-greenarrow.tumblr.com/), send me a [prompt](http://smoaking-greenarrow.tumblr.com/post/176168061889/smut-prompts)!_

 

_"Don't kink shame me."_

* * *

 

“Felicity, I’m really sorry.”

“What’s the one rule of the bunker, Oliver?”

He pressed his lips together, “don’t touch your computers.”

“And now you’ve deleted half of my data,” she raised her arms out, glaring up at him as he took a break from his giant tire workout she would never understand the point of. Not that she would  _ever_ complain.

“It was an accident,” he defended weakly, hovering over her monitor. Oliver hesitated before speaking again, knowing that his next words would get him into even hotter water. “Felicity, let’s go home,” he suggested slowly, “we can deal with this in the morning.”

“ _We_ won’t be dealing with anything. If you’re done with your hammer, you can go home. I’m staying here to try to fix this mess.”

Oliver sighed, “come on, honey. I’m not going home without you.”

She shot him a look, her ponytail swinging as she turned her head to glare. “If you sit there with those puppy dog eyes and stare at me while I work all night...Oliver Queen, so help me God-”

He raised his hands in the air, surrendering before he made it worse. “Okay, okay. I was only trying to help, Felicity. I used to do some of this on my own before you came along, remember?”

He was doing a very bad job at calming her down, if the flash of annoyance on her face was any indication. He held his hand out to her, hating when she was angry and wanting some part of her to touch. 

“I didn’t need help, Oliver,” she retorted, nudging his hand away just as his fingers grazed her shoulder.

“I thought I could handle it before you even got here and then, I mean, and then I thought we’d have more time for—just for other things tonight,” he stumbled over the words.

Felicity’s jaw tightened, “you broke my system because you were rushing so you could get  _laid_ tonight?”

His eyes widened. He hadn’t exactly been thinking about it in such blunt terms, but she wasn’t wrong. “I can reboot your system,” he mumbled.

She rolled her eyes with a huff, turning away from him, but he swore he saw the tiniest pull of a smile on her lips. 

For the next hour, Oliver kept good on their agreement. He didn’t stare at her with any kind of puppy dog eyes. At least, not that he was aware of. Instead, he focused on working out while she fixed the computers. 

But the disappointment was real, and he had to try very hard not to pout and ask her again if they could go home. He’d been daydreaming all day about a nice, relaxing few hours in bed with her. Followed by wrapping her up and watching her fall asleep until he drifted off himself to the gentle sounds of her snoring. 

It’d never get old.

But that was before he screwed up her work. And now he was stuck taking out his disappointment on a tire. His mind was focused on his thoughts, letting his energy out as he picked the sledgehammer up and dropped it down, circling the tire and working different muscles with each angle. 

It was one of his favorite exercises, introduced to him by Diggle. He liked it for a lot of reasons, one of which being that it didn’t take much thought. Lift the sledgehammer above your head, hit the tire with it as hard as you could.

What he didn’t know was that it was also one of Felicity’s favorite workouts. His head was somewhere else, expecting her to be ignoring him. And he didn’t realize that he was making her even more aggravated. But Felicity kept glancing over her shoulder at him, listening to his grunting and breathing and pounding as he slammed the hammer again and again. 

Of course, he’d taken his shirt off. Of course he was sweating. Of course he was oblivious. And of course she couldn’t focus. Why he had to do that  _right_ behind her...she wasn’t sure. 

If she didn’t know what a thick headed dummy he could be, she would have thought he was teasing her on purpose. But he didn’t even notice how distracting he was. Didn’t even have to try. 

Damn him.

Eventually, as Oliver’s heavy panting filled the bunker and she could see him wiping sweat from his brow out of the corner of her eye, she turned around in her chair to look at him fully. He was up on the tire, and he glanced down at her, realizing that her attention was on him.

Felicity narrowed her eyes, watching as he licked the sweat from his lips, giving her a strange look. His chest was heaving, his mouth open as he inhaled and exhaled. Tiny, mouthwatering droplets rolled down his chest.

_Damn. Him._

Oliver hesitated, wondering if he was forgiven yet or not, but Felicity didn’t say a word. Instead, she raised an eyebrow, her eyes roaming over his glistening muscles unabashedly.

Oliver watched the movement of her gaze vigilantly. Unsure what she was thinking, not wanting to piss her off further if he was projecting his own sexual frustration onto her, he cleared his throat. Then he turned his attention back to the set he was in the middle of. After ten more heavy swings, Oliver hopped down from the tire again. He could see Felicity watching him as he walked to the table where he left his towel, wiping the sweat from his face and neck. 

Before he realized it, she was moving. Felicity plucked the towel out of his hand, and he glanced down at her, “what...”

She tossed it over her back, biting her lip as she eased herself up to sit on the table beside him. “Are you done?” She asked, lifting her chin towards the tire. Oliver swallowed, answering with a quick nod. 

He’d like to think that he can read Felicity Smoak pretty well. And he definitely knew that look in her eye. “Good,” Felicity murmured, lifting her legs and letting her feet catch around his waist. 

She smirked up at him, pulling him closer as he answered the expression with his own grin. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

Felicity pursed her lips, shaking her head playfully. “I’d say you have a little more work to do here. A little more of that grunting and sweating, I think...to earn my forgiveness.”

“Oh, yeah?” He chuckled, hooking his hands behind her knees and hauling her across the table unexpectedly, his cock twitching at the adorable shriek of surprise and the laughter that followed. “What kind of work needs to be done to appease you?”

“Mmm,” she sighed as he mumbled in her ear, pressing a kiss to her skin before he bit down on her earlobe. Felicity’s eyes rolled back, her arms coming up to wrap around him. His tongue soothed the spot just as his hands ventured up her thighs, slipping under her skirt to feel her smooth skin.

“Think you can squeeze in one more workout?” She asked breathlessly, her hips already rocking towards him. He nodded, letting his nose graze her cheek as he trailed kisses across every inch of expose skin he could reach. 

Felicity pulled his head away from her jaw where Oliver was kissing, tipping his jaw and giving herself access to his neck, “oh my god, you’re so sweaty,” she groaned, licking her way across his throat.

“Sorry,” he breathed.

“No,” she mumbled, “don’t apologize.” She nipped at his collar bone before pressed her lips against his throat and sucking. Hard.

His breath caught in his throat, his hand coming up to cup her cheek, encouraging her keep going, to leave a mark. Oliver groaned as she gently scraped her teeth against the tender hickey, and Felicity let out a breathy giggle. “It’s strange how much you love that.”

Oliver shrugged, “maybe I just like the little reminders all over my body of what a freak my wife is in bed.” 

She laughed; a tiny, surprised snort that never failed to turn him on. And then she rolled her eyes at him, so much sass and mischievous light in her expression. Another turn on.

Who the hell was he kidding? Basically everything about her turned him on.

Felicity shoved Oliver back and loosened her legs around him at the same time, letting him stumble enough that she could get down from the table. “Hey, where are you going?” he frowned, reaching for her again. She smiled into his kiss, but kept it brief, skimming her lips against his and humming as she traveled south. 

Her mouth dragged down his chin and throat and over his chest; kissing, sucking, and biting a path. Then she leaned forward, gripping her fingers onto his abs and digging them in a little bit to scratch him. Oliver inhaled sharply at the pinch of her nails, glancing down to watch her as she reached his nipple. 

All he could do was stare as she grazed her teeth over the tender flesh, leaving marks all over his chest. 

By the time she was done, he was hard as a rock, unable to fight the tiny jerking motion of his hips, seeking friction that his cargo pants weren’t fulfilling. “Felicity...fuck me. Now.”

She grinned up at him as if the words were all she wanted to hear.

But she still teased him.

Felicity stepped back, cocking her head to the side as she analyzed him. “I don’t know...are you sure you don’t want any more reminders of what a freak your wife is in bed?”

He grinned; a gorgeous, cocky, goofy grin that was only possible with this woman. With the playfulness they shared. The comfort they had together. “if you’re offering to suck on something...” he gestured down to his pants, making her giggle some more. 

“Hickeys on your penis? That’s kinky, even for you, Queen.”

Oliver just smirked wider, “don’t kink shame me, Smoak.”

Stepping closer again, Felicity lifted herself onto her toes, “I would never,” she whispered, trailing her tongue along his jaw and up to his ear. She nibbled at the sensitive patch of skin just below his ear. Hiking her skirt up to her waist, she wrapped one of her legs around one of his, bumping against him and using him to find her own pleasure. Oliver huffed, a raspy, delicious “Felicity, oh my god,” falling from his lips as his hands tightened on her waist.

She hummed, feeling how hard he was through his pants. The sexiest kind of confidence took over as her husband turned to putty in her hands. “Yes, Oliver,” she groaned back, grinding her hips against his, taking friction she needed as she ground down on his covered erection. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, his touch and his response to her was all-consuming, making her shudder with arousal. She sucked harder on his neck, hearing him grunt.

Oliver’s palms spread out over her ass, gripping her cheeks roughly in each hand. He bent down slightly, angling himself so he could thrust towards her, pumping his hips to meet hers. 

Felicity cried out, his cock rubbing against her as she felt his fingers grip her even tighter, moving her body where he needed it so he could find the angle he wanted. And she needed the exact same sensation, reveling in the wicked bruises she could feel his fingers squeezing onto her ass.

Reaching up, Felicity pulled his face down to hers, sucking at his upper lip. Her tongue slipped out, and she ran it across his lip, moaning with the wonderfully salty taste. 

When he pulled back slightly, she followed instinctively, her leg tightening to keep him where he was. But Oliver looked down at her, his eyes soft as he smiled.

And she held her breath, wondering if her heart would ever stop flipping around in her chest when he looked at her like that. “I know what you’re doing,” he told her, his voice thick with need.

She blinked, “I’m trying to fuck my husband. Why are you stopping me?”

“You like the hickeys as much as I do.”

“Hm?” She mused, her eyes falling to his chest, to the glorious marks that she’d left.

“Because I’m sweaty,” he continued, reaching between them and shoving her underwear to the side. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how horny you get every time I come home from a run.”

She shivered, her eyes slipping shut as his cock rubbing against her, causing a wet spot on his pants with her arousal, she was sure.

Of course, Oliver didn’t seem to care one bit. “Admit it, Felicity,” he teased, “you like me sweaty.”

Felicity didn’t respond, distracted when he reached between them, this time to push his own pants down.

When he stepped back towards her again, the length of him pushed between her folds, wetting his cock as he slipped in her arousal. He bit back a grunt, waiting for her answer and rubbing the head of his erection against her clit. 

“Oh my god,” she moaned loudly like music to his ears. “Inside, Oliver. Inside me,” her voice was tense and needy, but he stopped her hand when she tried to grip him, to guide him into her.

Seeing her frown up at him, Oliver raised an eyebrow at her, kissing the insatiable little pout of her mouth. 

“I like you sweaty,” she rolled her eyes, confirming the obvious. Felicity ran her hands up his arms and over his shoulders. “Don’t kink shame me,” she repeated his words with a sexy little smirk. “Just fuck me.”


	4. You're not going out in that outfit.

_"You're not going out in that outfit."_

_Set in season 2.5_

* * *

 

“You're not going out in that outfit.”

“What? Why not?”

Oliver just stares at her, keeping his eyes on her face, not daring to look down at the rest of her body. “No way,” he shakes his head.

Felicity’s eyes harden. “Too bad what I wear isn’t up to you, Oliver.”

“Please,” he sighs, his voice dropping, “Felicity, please go change.”

“They won’t let us through the door of that club without this ruse,” she argues.  “I’m supposed to be a stripper,” Felicity gestures down to her outfit. 

His eyes finally flicker down, holding his breath as he takes her in. “No, you’re pretending to be a  _waitress...at_ a strip club.”

“If you expect me to get this tiny device,” Felicity holds up the microchip, “into some mobster’s phone, then I’m going to need to get a little  _closer_ than a waitress.”

Oliver blinks, his eyes moving down her body. “I’ll do it.”

She raises an eyebrow, “you’ll give Danny Brickwell a striptease in the private room? Because that’s what Roy called and told him he won tonight for being a ‘loyal customer,’” she rolls her eyes, the dark makeup making them pop and look even more blue than usual.

It somehow makes him aroused yet uncomfortable, not used to seeing her sweet, natural features hidden behind so much makeup. The wig though...he could definitely do without the wig. 

He’d much rather see her blonde waves tangling through his fingers while she moves her hips to a forgotten beat, his gaze zeroing in on her smooth thighs, her  _ass_...

Not that he was thinking about her like that. 

Definitely  _no_ dirty thoughts were happening about her ass. 

Although it  _was_ perfectly sinful in anything she put on, and he’d wondered more than once how it would feel between his palms, how it’d look if he was pushing himself into her from behind...

But he didn’t think about her like that. Nope. Not at all.

The fake black hair was actually a nice touch, making her even more unrecognizable. “What I meant,” he says slowly, “is that  _I’ll_ go to the club and get this secured on Brick’s phone.” Oliver reaches for the chip, but Felicity pulls her arm back, raising an eyebrow.

“That seems unnecessary when we already have a plan,” she challenges. “No need to risk you getting caught reaching for another man’s pants.”

He can see the humor in her eyes. She isn’t taking this seriously; dressing up and pretending to be someone she wasn’t...it’s a game to her. Oliver narrows his eyes, closing the space between them and reaching for her clenched fist. 

Her fingers loosen when he encloses his hand around her tiny one, his other hand landing on the table behind her, boxing her in. Felicity’s eyes are wide as she stares up at him, and he waits until he has the microchip from her hand before he speaks. Dropping it into his pocket, he leans down, putting his face inches from hers. “Excuse me if I don’t have too much faith in a plan that was hatched between a teenage criminal and an IT genius. This job seems more like something Dig and I should handle.”

Felicity’s eyes harden, but she doesn’t look away...so he refuses to look anywhere else but back at her. Despite the anger that clouds her face, he can feel the tension between them...and it’s something very far from hate that sparks from her eyes to his. “You know,” she drones lowly, “it’s okay to just say that you’re worried about me, Oliver.”

The confidence behind her gaze isn’t  _exactly_ the Felicity he knows. She’s beautiful, and he’s sure that she must know that. But the air of nervousness that always surrounds her is gone. She isn’t babbling, she isn’t looking away from him, she isn’t uncomfortable. 

She’s provoking him. Daring him to deny the thing that they both know is there. That they can both feel every time their eyes meet.

But he’s not sure he’s ready for that quite yet, so he chooses a safer response. “You’re not a stripper, Felicity. Brick is a foul pig, he’ll see through your act as soon as he walks through the door.”

His other hand comes to rest on the table by her hip, caging her between both of his arms now. He expects her to back up, to relent...although knowing Felicity, he has no idea why he thinks she’d do that.

Instead, Felicity steps closer, surprising him when her gloved hands reach for the collar of his button down, smoothing it before she lets her fingers roam down his chest. And Oliver freezes, his eyes glued to her face while she watches her own hands with slight curiosity, exploring the feel of his muscles as they flex under her touch. “Felicity...” he breathes when she reaches his abs, but he has no idea what else he intended to say. 

He doesn’t want her to stop. 

They’d been so good all summer. Growing closer as friends, each of them doing their best not to cross a line they weren’t prepared to cross. Yet, his control is apparently reliant on hers. 

Because all it takes is one moment where she touches him like this...and his willpower is gone. Completely at her mercy. _You're in love with her._

When she looks up at him, he can tell that she knows it, too. 

He can see the wheels in her head turning, realizing how much she _truly_ affects him, no matter what excuse he'd let her believe after their plan for Slade. And she stares back as if she’s interested to know how far she can take him. Oliver bites his lip when her hands travel south, grazing over the button of his jeans experimentally. 

It’s not until she’s doing this that he recognizes what a sucker he is for this woman. The fact that he’d do pretty much anything...if it’s her asking, he would.

But if her hand moves any lower, he’ll be spreading her legs on top of the med table in two seconds, dedicated to making her come.

Felicity’s mouth curves up into a smirk, and he lets out a breath of air, smiling softly down at her. 

“You’re forgetting that I grew up in Vegas,” she hums. “Strip classes are as common as yoga.” His eyes widen at that, at the idea of Felicity learning how to dance on a  _pole_...but he’s so focused on her fingers brushing over the zipper of his pants...that he completely misses what her other hand is doing. “Don’t underestimate me, Oliver.”

With that, she pulls both of her hands away, flashing the microchip between her fingers that she’d taken back out of his pocket without his knowledge. He feels his face flush with embarrassment, yet enticed by the fact that she’d successfully distracted him. She’s all taunting and confidence as she grins up at him, proud of herself for that move. And he can tell that she’s waiting for him to back away. “Fine...” he mumbles, not letting her go just yet. “We’ll play it your way, Felicity. Under two conditions.”

She raises an eyebrow, “what conditions?”

“I go with you tonight,” he answers slowly, watching as she considers his words. Once he receives a shrug of agreement, he continues, “and we get this done before Brickwell lays a finger on you.”

She purses her lips, clearly wondering how that’ll work when her plan revolves around a private room and a chance to swipe his phone. But she nods anyway, and Oliver’s eyes drop to her arm, watching as she shivers. He runs his index finger up her arm, dragging it across her chest and over her shoulder, pushing back the fake black strands of hair. 

Felicity looks up at him, lifting her gaze slowly to his face. He catches that excitement and curiosity in her eyes again. Then she turns around, pressing her back against his chest. 

Oliver freezes, his back stiffening as she drops her head to rest on his shoulder.

And he practically chokes on his tongue when she starts to move her hips, grinding her perfect, round ass against his hardening cock.

_“Fe-li-ci-ty.”_

This time when he breathes her name, it is a warning. Because if she doesn’t stop,  _he_ won’t stop. She rolls her head on his shoulder, looking up at him with wide eyes, her pupils dilated with a captivating interest. As much as he wants her, Oliver can see the same desire staring back at him. “Oliver...” 

He groans, closing his eyes and pushing her forward, rocking his hips against hers. Felicity gasps, pressed between him and the table in front of her with no more room to tease him. She reaches for his hands, thrusting back against him as she guides his arms around herself.

One of his hands glides up her stomach, brushing along the curve of her breast before kneading it in his palm, his fingers fitting perfectly around the plump flesh beneath the silky costume she’s wearing. And Felicity knots her fingers through his on his other hand, their hands trailing lower. 

Holding his breath, Oliver focuses on the gentle whimpers coming from her throat. Her tongue slips out to wet her dark purple lips as her eyebrows furrow, just waiting for him to touch her. First, he slides their hands down to her thigh, taking a moment to appreciate the soft, creamy skin, and then he lets his fingers wander under the little skirt. 

Felicity’s fingers tighten around his hand as he runs his thumb over her underwear, groaning his approval when he discovers she’s already wet. 

The door at the top of the stairs slams, and Oliver jumps away from her as they hear Diggle and Roy’s footsteps descending on the bunker. He isn’t quite sure if the sudden interruption is why he’s breathing so heavily, or if he’d been doing that all along, but he tries to control it. 

She straightens, glancing at him quickly before she looks at John and Roy. The two of them glance between Oliver and Felicity, sensing something. “Everything okay?” Dig asks cautiously, his attention focused on Felicity, asking her.

Oliver stares at her, needing to know the answer to that, too.

Felicity nods, giving him a tiny, warm smile of assurance. And he lets out a deep breath, slightly in shock over the way they’d just been touching each other... _so close_ to doing the things he’d often find himself imagining.

“Right...” Roy drawled. “Well we better get going.”


	5. Make me.

_All right, since y’all passionately threatened to stop breathing and offered me your kidneys for this...here’s a sequel to[Chapter 4](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15409122/chapters/35974125)!_

_"Make me"_

* * *

Listening to Oliver flounder his way through a conversation with Danny Brickwell is awkward.

He’d entered the club as Oliver Queen, which immediately put him on edge. And he had to play the role of a sex-crazed rich man who spent his weekends at strip clubs.

Felicity has never understood how _this_ is who he once was. The Oliver she’d met and grown to know is so far from the persona he could step into. But Oliver never really had a hard time putting on that mask. It's a comfortable space for him; the shallow, entitled kid who never had to deal with consequences. It's who he was before the island. And something about that must feel safe to him.

Yet, Oliver is struggling. He doesn’t seem to know what to say to Brick...can’t find an opportunity to slip the microchip onto the mobster’s phone. And Felicity can’t help but smirk from her seat at the bar, casually watching him struggle. Surprisingly, the half naked women dancing in front of them only make Oliver even more uncomfortable. “Just tell me when, Oliver,” she mumbles into her martini. “I have that outfit in my bag and Brickwell has the private room booked in half an hour.”

She hears Oliver growl in response, his eyes shifting to her from across the club. She sips her drink innocently, blinking at him as he glares. “No,” he huffs back.

Lifting a shoulder, Felicity turns back to the bar, getting the bartender’s attention and ordering another drink.  _This could take a while._

Felicity isn’t exactly  _happy_ that Oliver got his way tonight. But it does bring her an ‘I told you so’ type of pleasure that his plan is failing. Part of her feels bad for him, watching as he shifts around in his seat, unsure how to go about this mission without his green hood or his arrows.

The vigilante would just knock Brickwell out and get what he needs. But this plan requires a gentler touch. Less punching and more talking. Which isn't exactly Oliver’s style.

Sitting at the bar, Felicity keeps her back to Oliver’s booth, listening through the comms as she finishes her second drink. 

Oliver is no closer to making his move, and Felicity finally sighs, getting down from her stool and heading for the back hallway.

Roy had already slipped her a key to the private room, giving her a knowing look. It wasn’t that they expected Oliver not to get the job done. It's just that their plan is better. And the whole team knows it.

“Where the hell are you going?” Oliver mutters under his breath, obviously aware that she’d vacated her assigned seat. The low grumble of his voice reminds of the bunker, _whatever that was_ , and the way his hands had gripped her waist, stilling her writhing hips but pulling her closer at the same time.

“I’m doing what we came here to do,” she rolls her eyes, slipping into the private room. It’s painted dark red with black leather furniture; a couch and two chaise chairs. Felicity scrunches up her nose. “Could this place be any more cliche?”

“Stay put,” Oliver commands sharply.

"Make me," she immediately quips back, irritated by all of his orders tonight. Telling her to change her clothes. Taking control of the plan for Brickwell. And then demanding that she sit silently at the bar for nearly an hour while he attempted to plant the chip on his phone. "Brickwell has the room for thirty minutes." She informs the team. "I can get this done in fifteen."

"Damn it, Felicity," Oliver grits out. "No," and then his line goes out.

“Oliver?” Felicity presses the button on her earpiece, trying to get him back. “Oliver.” She lets out an annoyed breath before texting Diggle and Roy, who are waiting outside the club, to let them know that Oliver’s gone rogue again.  _Like an idiot._

Dig texts back to ask if she wants him to come inside just as there’s a knock on the door. Felicity holds her breath, glancing down at the time. There’s still twenty minutes before Brickwell should be showing up. Which means...

Felicity swings the door open, revealing an irritated Oliver, staring daggers at her as he pushes into the room. His hands hook on his hips as she closes the door and crosses her arms. Oliver paces in front of her, “what is  _with_ you tonight, Felicity?” he asks quickly, looking at his feet instead of her. “I had this under control. We had a deal. I come with you and Brickwell doesn’t touch you. We agreed. So what the hell are you doing?”

“Did you get the chip on his phone?”

He glances up at her, his eyes flashing with annoyance. “Yes,” Oliver clips. “I told him I know a porn star and he demanded that I put her number in his phone. Easy. If you would have just given me more time-”

“We’ve been here for forty five minutes. In twenty more, Brickwell would have ditched you for his private lap dance. You were running out of time.”

“I had it handled,” he says lowly, pinching his lips together as he looks away.

“Why does it bother you so much?”

“Because...” Oliver sighs, “because, it’s just...that wasn’t you. That hair and the makeup and the  _costume_.” He gestures a hand towards the pole. “None of this is who you are and I-I don’t know, the idea of a pig like Brick having his hands on  _you_ just...” 

Her heart beats a little faster at where he lets his words wander. What he’s suggesting. She’s always known that Oliver Queen cared about her. That she’s an important person in his life. But the protective, dark look in his eyes is something else. 

And she’d be lying if she said it didn’t turn her on.

Taking a step towards him, Felicity stares as Oliver’s body stills. She doesn’t say a word as she stalks closer, reveling in the way his eyes are fixed on her. 

When she reaches him, Felicity presses her palms against his chest, gliding her fingers over the delicious muscles before she shoves him back. He gasps, stumbling onto the couch behind him. His gaze remains on her, though. 

Oliver stares up at her with wide eyes, waiting to see what she does next. 

She grins as she leans over him, feeling his hands slide up her legs, his fingertips brushing over the curve of her ass. His eyes darken, gripping her as she gently begins to rock her hips, moving to an imaginary beat.

In truth, she doesn’t really need music. Dancing had always come naturally to her, even as a seventeen year old sneaking into a pole dancing classes with her friends.

Felicity's fingers slip beneath his coat, pushing it off his shoulders. Oliver moves to take it off immediately, following her lead. Felicity straightens her back, letting her hips sway as she begins to remove her own jacket. His eyes are so focused on her, it lights a confident fire in her belly, and she touches his cheek, brushing her thumb over the corner of his lip. 

No one has  _ever_ looked at her like this.

It's consuming.

Dropping her jacket onto the couch beside him, Felicity lets her hands wander over her own body. And Oliver shifts to stand up, too...but Felicity gently pushes him back down. “Stay put,” she grumbles, recalling his previous demand. 

But now it's her turn to tell him what to do. “Take off your shirt.”

Oliver hesitates, and she raises an eyebrow. When he does as he's told, she hums her approval, leaning down again to kiss the scar on his shoulder. The one he’d received after being shot. The one that had lead him to the backseat of her car, bleeding and asking for her help.

Trusting her.

Felicity’s tongue glides over the puckered flesh, and she wraps her lips around it in an open-mouthed kiss. Oliver groans, both of his hands reaching for her face. He pulls her back, his eyes heavy on hers, knowing exactly why she chose  _that_ scar out of the many he had. Oliver’s fingers push through her hair, his nose bumping against hers as he leans in.

She pulls away, righting herself and stepping back. He keeps his hands where they are, blinking up at her in confusion. And slight hurt.

But she just smiles. “I make the rules, Oliver,” she whispers. “I decide.”

Oliver’s lip twitches at her playful tone, “and your decision is that I can’t kiss you? With all due respect, I think that’s a terrible choice.”

Felicity chuckles, walking backwards as she reaches a hand out, grabbing onto the pole. “You can kiss me,” she taunts as she gracefully swings around it. “Just not yet.”

The smile on his face falls flat, watching as she hooks her leg around the pole and swings in the other direction. With the pole between her legs, Felicity glances over her shoulder at him. “Do you want to kiss me, Oliver?”

He nods instantly, not bothering to act coy. She’s sexy as all hell, and he’s almost positive that he truly does love her. It’s a deadly combination. 

Irresistible.

“Where?” She asks now.

Oliver cocks his head to the side, not able to comprehend the question when her body is wrapped around a damn stripper pole, her black tank top riding up to reveal the smooth skin underneath. The beautiful curves.

She leans back against the pole, letting her hands trail down her breasts and over her hips as she tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Where do you want to kiss me?” She asks again. 

His mouth goes dry when she brings one hand up to her neck, brushing her hair away, her skin growing pink as she flushes with arousal. “Here?”

Her hand slips down her throat, and he watches as she caresses her own body, drawing her fingers across herself slowly. Felicity pushes the strap of her tank top down, letting his attention linger on her shoulder, and he suddenly has a vivid picture in his mind of nipping at the soft flesh, sucking until he leaves a mark. “Here?” she whispers.

Oliver licks his lips, unable to stop staring at her hands, doing exactly what he wants to be doing. Touching every inch of her. Her hands slide down to her stomach, “what about here?” She whispers, fingers slowly dipping beneath the waist of her pants. "Do you want to kiss me here, Oliver?"

His eyes fly up to meet hers, “everywhere, Felicity," he strains. “I want to kiss you  _everywhere_.”

She groans, pushing off from the pole and coming back over to him. He’s surprised at how quickly and elegantly she climbs onto his lap. And then he’s left a little bit breathless as she starts to move, not wasting any time.

Felicity rocks her hips against him, her body moving in such a tantalizing way. His hands find her hips, urging her to keep going as she grinds down onto him. It's perfect. The feel of her body over his is everything he tried to ignore. His desire for her runs deep, something undeniable.

And then Felicity wraps her arms around his neck, pulling herself against him, and he feels like his heart needs her as much as his body does.

On one hand, he can smell the familiar, sweet scent of her shampoo. He can feel how tightly she holds onto him, as if she trusts him to keep her safe. As she should...because he would  _never_ let anything hurt her. It feels so  _good_ to have her in his arms like this, to know that she’s there and she’s okay and she’s holding him right back. It’s comfortable. Peaceful. He could hold her like that forever.

On the other hand, her hips are doing the opposite. He can feel his cock hardening with every little roll of her body. She rubs against him, feeling him harden and moaning his name as she rotates her hips even faster, creating friction where she needs him. He can only imagine what it would be like to feel this with one hundred percent  _less_ clothes on.

He hasn’t gotten off to something like this since he was a teenager, yet Felicity slips her hand between them, her tiny fingers stroking his length through his slacks, and he can feel an orgasm slowly coiling from his spine. “Oh, Felicity,” his eyes flutter shut, his head falling back on the couch.

He wants to kiss her. He wants to feel her tongue dancing with his, the same way her body is. He wants to bite that damn perfect bottom lip of hers, hear her moan in pleasure into his mouth. He wants to taste her.

“Oh my god, Oliver,” Felicity continues to grind down onto him, finding her release between his covered cock and the seam of her pants. 

Her fingers grip into his hair suddenly, her breath catching in her throat before she lets out a low moan and Oliver opens his eyes, wanting to see her expression as she comes.

“Fuck,” he breathes, bucking his hips against her now that she’s stopped her movements. Her mouth hangs open in a perfect O, her face gorgeously relaxed. And he’s not sure he’s ever been more aroused than in that moment, knowing that he’d helped to get that look on her face. “Felicity...” he forces himself to stop thrusting against her, stilling his hips back down to the couch and holding onto her. 

He’s not sure if she’ll regret this. Doing any of it with him, from what happened in the bunker to  _this_. 

Felicity’s eyes open slowly, meeting his gaze. And she smiles. There’s not a trace of doubt or remorse to be found in her satisfied grin. The laugh that escapes her lips has his hips lifting to find friction again.

“Felicity,” he grits out, inhaling sharply when her hands reach for his pants, unbuttoning them without hesitation. She slides her hand inside, humming her approval as she discovers his hard, sizable erection. “Oh,” she groans, biting her lip as she feels him for the first time, “is there anything about you that can’t be qualified as ‘above average?’”

Oliver laughs, pleased with her assessment, and the quick work she’s making of his current need. Her fingers explore his length for a brief moment, and then she grips him. The pressure is  _perfect_ , squeezing him as she pumps her hand up and down, using her thumb to spread the cum that leaks out of him. 

His eyes fight to stay open, to watch her face as she watches him. Her expression is curious; that familiar, only Felicity, analytical crease between her eyebrows. She experiments with her pressure, her speed, looking to learn what he likes. But it’s completely pointless, if he’s being honest. 

Any and every way this woman touches him is going to be mind-blowing.

In the midst of the best hand-job he’s ever received, Oliver is suddenly worried about a next time. And he curses himself because it puts a knot in his stomach and pauses his climb to a damn incredible orgasm. “Felicity,” he grunts, his fingers winding around her wrist. She stops, but her thumb still swirls the head of his erection. Oliver closes his eyes, “Felicity, please,” he moans, not even sure himself what he’s asking for.

She hesitates for a long moment, and he opens his eyes to look up at her. And then she pulls her hand away from his cock, casually slipping her thumb between her lips and sucking it clean. 

Oliver groans. “Fucking gorgeous,” he mutters to himself, wishing he could go back in time just to kick his past-self’s ass for not seeing the girl on top of him sooner. For not doing everything he could to make her happy from the day he met her.

Felicity smiles at his honest words, seeing that he means it. She’s gorgeous. Perfect in so many ways. Perfect for _him_.

She's perfect for him.

His balance. His clarity. The only one who makes sense. And she's on top of him, wiggling around on his dick with a heated look in her eyes and a sexy little smile on her lips.

He has no idea what he’s done to deserve this, but he doesn’t have it in him to push her away. Not like he has before. Not anymore. Not with  _her_. 

When her hand finds his cock again, she pumps him slowly, letting his orgasm build in a frustratingly blissful way. He grips her thighs as he comes, his fingers digging in, and Felicity squeezes him just a little bit harder. 

His eyes slam shut, his body jerking up into her hand, and Felicity leans forward, lazily letting her tongue slide over his neck and up to his jaw, where she kisses him slowly, sucking just below his ear.

As he comes down, Oliver hones in on the feeling of her lips and tongue on his skin, just above his pulse point that he knows is racing. "Felicity...that was...wow."

He can feel her smile against his throat, and it brings a smirk of his own. "That was pretty _wow,_ " She drawls.

"Fe-li-ci-ty," Oliver breathes. There's a mess on her hand between them, his cum covering both of them. But it's her damn mouth that holds his attention. Those lips he's desperate for. "Can I kiss you?"

She looks down at him, nodding as he leans forward. Oliver licks his lips, his tongue brushing against her parted lips, tasting her as he hesitates. He knows kissing her shouldn't be a big deal after the things they'd just done, but it feels final for some incredible reason.

Like his last first kiss.

And he wants to take his time.

"Oliver," Felicity mumbles, waiting with baited breath for him to kiss her.

But then her phone begins to ring, and they both freeze. Oliver turns his head slowly to look down at the interruption lying next to her leg. And he instantly regrets it when Felicity doesn't bother, dropping her forehead against his temple in disappointment. "It's John." Oliver glances down at the mess still on her hand, picking her phone up and answering it. "We'll be right there."

"Roy and I are in the club. We have eyes on Brickwell. Where the hell are you two?"

"What? Um, we'll be right there. Just...the chip is in Brick's phone. We'll meet you at the van. We just...got caught up in something."

After he hangs up, Felicity pulls back, and he grips her tighter for a moment, holding her on his lap. Oliver hugs her gently, pressing a kiss to her cheek. He knows that there's so much more between them. So many new things to discover, pleasures to enjoy, ways to fall deeper in love with her...and the thought has cock jerking to life again.

Felicity's eyes widen as she feels it, in the middle of tucking him back into his pants.

"I hope you know I have every intention of finishing what we started. If that's what you want."

She meets his gaze and nods. "Good. Then let's get cleaned up. And do our best to not look like we just did... _that_." Felicity grins down at him, a mischievous, alluring spark in her eyes. The start of something good. Probably the start of the best thing that'll ever happen to him. "I'll meet you at my place in an hour."


	6. Do you think they can hear us through the tent?

“Oliver,” Felicity whispers, her eyes wide open as she stares into the dark tent. The crickets chirping and the wind blowing are perfectly peaceful sounds. But her husband is a damn furnace, one that insists on being wrapped around her. It makes it very hard to fall asleep. She leans back, gently nudging his hand off her hip and tossing the sleeping bag aside.

“Mm,” he grunts, nestling back in, spooning her from behind and letting out a deep breath, warm air gliding over the nape of her neck. “Stop, Fli-city,” he mumbles. “Cold.”

“ _You’re_ cold,” she hisses, pulling away again. She flips over to face him, kicking away all the flannel and fleece material he’d insisted on wrapping her up in. Just because he took her camping  _one_ time, in  _October_ , and she’d shivered all night, making him feel horrible.

“I’m  _hot_.” 

He smirks, still mostly asleep as he bundles her up in his arms. “Yeah, you are,” he kisses her forehead.

Felicity rolls her eyes, “you need to go get in your own sleeping bag, over there,” she tells him, “I can’t sleep like this. You’re too warm.”

Oliver immediately frowns at that, and then his eyes open when she gingerly pushes on his chest. “You really want me to go over there?” he asks, glancing over at his abandoned sleeping bag on the other side of their tent. And he actually looks hurt, like the idea of having to sleep somewhere that’s not with her is the worst idea he’s ever heard. His eyes convey the same message; big, blue tired puppy dog eyes looking from the sleeping bag to her.

She groans, “fine, you can stay, but get rid of the blankets.”

Oliver nods quickly, tossing aside the cozy nest of warmth he’d built around them, throwing it all into the opposite corner where his sleeping bag lay.

Without a word, Felicity reaches for the buttons of her fleece pajama top, taking it off and hurling it across the tent like it had offended her. In reality, the little coffee mugs saying ‘I love you a latte!’ were adorable, but she rips the matching pants off, too. They were another purchase of her husband’s, in preparation for this trip. 

He raises an eyebrow at her dramatics, his eyes falling down to her breasts as she falls back against his arm. “Too much?”

Felicity scrunches up her nose, “just a little bit.” No matter how annoyingly warm she is, nothing will make her angry over the fact that not only had Oliver searched through the women’s section to buy her pajamas that would keep her warm, but that he’d also taken the time to find ones she’d like. 

She sighs, feeling better. 

His skin is still hot as hell, but it’s not as suffocating now that all the other layers are gone.

“You okay?” Oliver asks as he settles back in, his arm winding around her, burying his face in her neck.

She nods with contentment, closing her eyes and sighing. “I’m good,” her fingers comb through his hair, pressing her nose into it and smelling the invigorating scent. It’s salty from an all-day trek through the forests of Nicaragua. With hints of summer rain and woodsy pine.

Humming, Felicity takes another deep inhale, feeling Oliver’s arms tighten around her, pressing his face further into her chest. His chin scrapes against her breast, his beard leaving a slight burn, his fingers digging into her bare back. Her heart starts beating a little faster as he draws her close, his tempting muscles flexing. He hugs her tight.

Oliver knows what he’s doing. He knows how much she loves being held like this, and her leg instinctively hooks over his hip, a deep need to be  _closer_ settling into her stomach.

When he came home two months ago, she’d been obsessed with this. With these moments. And they seriously struggled to find the will to stop once they started. Well...they hadn’t been able to yet.

Not that they had really tried. Ever since he got out of prison, there were no such things as brakes, or wrong times, or later. She had to have him. And that feeling hadn’t gone away for either of them.

But...it’s the middle of the night. They’re camping out on a mountain in another country, with their friends only a stone’s throw away, and if there  _was_ a need for brakes or wrong times or later, now would probably be it. Feeling his hand roam over her back, down her side and over her ass, Felicity holds her breath, trying to find the power to stop. Oliver’s mouth finds her collarbone while his fingers graze her thigh, his lips leaving a trail of kisses that echo the path his hand takes, inching closer to her sex.

Screw brakes. Screw wrong times. Screw later. She needs him  _now_. 

Like every time before, the feeling starts in her chest, spreading over her whole body like a wildfire. The more he touches her, the more she feels it ignite, working her up until she can’t think straight, can’t comprehend anything besides him and the way he feels.

Luckily for them, Oliver has a bit more sense. He presses his thumb against her clit, teasing her through her underwear, and he’s fast enough to grip his other hand over her mouth when she begins to moan, smothering the sound, but his thumb remains.

His fingers covering her lips only turns her on even more, though, and she breathes heavily against his skin, her eyes lulling shut as she drops her head back to her pillow. Felicity’s hips buck against him, creating a delicious friction as he circles his thumb over her sensitive flesh. “Oh, Felicity,” he exhales, her back arching into his hand. And she opens her eyes, looking up at him as he watches her with pure adoration on his face. His gaze drifts over her body and up to her face. He smiles crookedly, staring down at her and slowing his thumb. 

Her hips still rock up to meet him, and he presses against her a bit harder.

Oliver shakes his head, moving so he’s hovering over her. He leans down to brush his nose against hers, “I’ve missed watching you like this,”

The confession isn’t new, he’d said things along the same line in the last two months, letting her know that he had thought about her every day. How much he loved her. There was something special about these moments though, when he reminded her how much he still  _wants_ her. Needs her. How touching her and seeing her writhe beneath him is still something that he craves. On some level, she needs that assurance. And he gives it generously.

“I’ve missed making you come,” Oliver whispers, low and gritty. “Feeling you fall apart around my fingers,” his voice is thick with need as his hand cups her sex, stroking against her as her hips jerk into his hand. 

Oliver lets his lips rest against hers, his hooded eyes meeting her gaze, and he slowly dips his hand into her panties, his fingers swirling in the arousal that he finds there. He groans lowly, letting his tongue slip out to taste her lower lip. Then he bites it between his teeth, his fingers increasing their pace as he rubs her clit.

Yet he doesn’t kiss her, pushing her anticipation up a notch, making her desire hit new levels. “Oh my god,” she mewls.

“Shh,” he pants, sounding just as breathless as she is. “We have to be quiet, Felicity.” 

She doesn’t reply. In fact, her next whimper is a little louder than before, when his index finger slips between her folds, teasing her as he waits. “Can you do that?”

They both know she can’t. Not when she’s like  _this_. Her desire for him wild and hungry.

Insatiable.

“No,” she answers honestly, opening her eyes to look at him. Her gaze is challenging, daring him to stop, and he narrows his eyes at her before biting his lip.

“Fuck it,” he sighs, his lips crushing hers in the same moment that he thrusts his fingers into her. She opens her mouth, half in invitation, and half in a gasp. And Oliver’s tongue plays against hers, the taste and feel of him consuming her.

It’s a feeling that she thinks about often, knowing that she’s never felt it for anyone else. Sometimes she wonders if passion like this ever fades. And she always hopes that it won’t. It certainly doesn’t feel like it ever will.

His fingers pump in and out of her quickly. Oliver’s palm presses down on her clit, rubbing it with a rough and familiar pace. One that he knows she loves, from experience. “Oliver,” her hands grip his shoulders as she feels herself on the edge.

Knowing her body perfectly, Oliver curls his fingers, pushing her straight over it...but he’s right there to catch her, swallowing her moans as he coaxes her through it with his kisses and his fingers.

They’re both panting as she comes down, and Oliver keeps his forehead pressed to hers, his fingers still inside of her as her walls continue to pulse around him.

A long moment of silence passes between them while they catch their breaths, and Felicity feels like she’s gaining all her other senses back, starting to notice the crickets and wind again. Her common sense comes back as well, and she purses her lips, feeling Oliver slide his fingers out of her and adjust her underwear back into place. 

She looks up at him, watching as he licks his fingers clean.

“Do you think they can hear us through the tent?” Felicity whispers.

Oliver shakes his head, his face twisting into that expression that tells her whatever he’s about to answer with is a bold-faced  _lie_. She was loud...and he knows it.

“Yes!” Diggle’s voice bellows through the darkness, making Felicity yelp. “ _They_ can!”

Her hands fly up to her face, covering it as she feels herself blush. “I’m sorry, John!” She squeals, making Oliver chuckle. He’s smug, probably proud of himself still. Not caring one bit. And she glares at him through her fingers.

“It’s okay, Felicity!” Lyla calls back, her voice blocking out some of Dig’s grumbling.

“We still have one more night in this damn jungle before we reach this Lazarus Pit,” Diggle complains. “I swear to god, if you two put me through that again, I’m telling Thea all about it as soon as we see her. Every detail. And then when she’s as traumatized as I am, I’ll let  _her_ kill you both.”

Oliver bites his lip to keep from laughing, but Felicity is beyond embarrassed, moving her hand to cover her eyes as she groans.

He just sighs, letting Dig’s threat and the sounds of the forest hang in the air. Oliver kisses a path from her cheek to her neck, gently tugging her hand away from her face, he kisses her palm and each one of her fingers. 

As she calms down, he cuddles back in. Oliver’s arms wrap around her, holding her against him, peppering kisses across her chest, letting her feel his love in each one. “He’ll get over it,” he whispers into her skin after a while.

There’s a long silence while she closes her eyes, knowing better after one too many awkward situations in the bunker.

“No he sure as hell won’t!” John yells back.


	7. You’re n-not, um, w-wearing anything under that, are you..?

_[@swordandarrow](https://tmblr.co/mJZQWsPTy82mFndDxaAYZcw): “You’re n-not, um, w-wearing anything under that, are you..?” _

* * *

“I want to go home.”

“Felicity,” Oliver said slowly, familiar with these conversations after four years of marriage. “The party just started an hour ago. We planned the whole thing. It would be incredibly rude to go home now.”

“What if EJ needs us?”

“Roy will call.” 

He tried not to smile as his wife pouted. “I still can’t believe you convinced me that  _Roy_ is going to take good care of our son.”

“Come on, let’s get you a drink.”

“Bad idea. My mom spiked the eggnog already.”

Oliver pursed his lips, “let’s get some champagne, then. I think it’s better if we both avoid your mother’s concoctions for tonight.”

Felicity took his hand as he offered it, letting him lead her to a waiter with a tray of champagne flutes. But she still groaned. She felt like the grumpy old lady who was out past her bedtime. God, it was awful. But Eli was going through a ‘scared of the dark’ phase which meant a lot of crying and plenty of tiny feet jabbed into her ribs whenever he scampered into their bed.

It was impossible not to worry about how Roy was handling it. Especially since it was EJ’s bedtime. She finished her champagne quickly, feigning interest in the conversation with Oliver’s staff and their spouses. 

Her husband raised an eyebrow at her as she knocked back her drink a bit too quickly and set her glass on one of the trays. He knew that she was rushing. “I’m just going to give Roy a call,” she whispered, vigilant not to interrupt the small talk. “I should check in. Eli’s not used to being away from us, and I know he loves Roy, but-”

Sighing, Oliver put a gentle hand on her hip, leaning down to her ear, “I’m giving you five minutes. And then I expect you right back here.”

His voice was low, an order. 

Usually it pissed her off when he tried to tell her what to do. But Oliver practically growled in her ear, and his voice wasn’t annoyed. It held an exciting tone. A slightly dark and thrilling challenge. “Or what?” She breathed back.

Oliver slowly brought his lips to the corner of her mouth, kissing her there once before he answered. “Or I’ll have to remind you how rough I can be.”

To say that their sex life was boring would be a hilarious lie. But it had been....less sexy lately. The impulse, the need to tear each other’s clothes off, the uncontrollable noises that ripped through her chest when Oliver was between her legs had been traded in for hurried moments, rushed sex on a time crunch between their busy schedules. Not that there wasn’t something hot about getting him off in their laundry room before work last week, but she missed when they didn’t have places to be or kids to  _not_ traumatize.

It also didn’t help that a toddler found his way between them most nights. Sleeping naked was a thing of the past.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Oliver Queen,” she whispered back, her lips brushing his cheek. “You’re the Mayor...don’t get yourself in over your head here.” She kissed his cheek, her fingers gripping his arm. Oliver’s eyes narrow as she pulled back, and she gave him a slow smile. 

Felicity didn’t give him the chance to respond, instead she turned on her heel and headed for his office. She had no intentions of making it a quick phone call. 

Roy told her that EJ had eaten all of his dinner and fallen asleep in a fort they’d built in the living room. Apparently her son was still snoring away in there. She smiled, thanking Roy for making it easy on them. “Of course,” he replied. “Any time.”

“Did William make it home by curfew?”

“Yep,” Roy answered. “Not a minute late.”

Felicity smiled, “of course he did. I’m still waiting for his rebellious phase, but I’m not sure we’ll ever see one.”

“Well, he did think that purposely washing his whites with his colors was badass.”

She laughed, “that poor kid. I had to pretend to be mad about that. He doesn’t realize that doing his own laundry at all negates the whole badass thing.”

Roy laughed too, “so, how’s the party?”

“Boring. But my mother is having a blast. She loves meeting all of these divorced businessmen.” Felicity rolled her eyes. 

“Did she do what I think she did?”

“Oh, obviously. Although for once I think it’s doing more good than harm. These stuffy business types can use a little Mama Smoak Eggnog to lighten them up.”

“Ah,” Roy let out a deep breath, “isn’t it weird?”

“What?”

“You, Oliver, and Thea at a holiday party because he’s Mayor again and Thea’s his District Attorney. Your mom moving to town to be closer to you and your family. Me sitting here on a Saturday night  _babysitting_? I mean, did you ever think, four years ago when you married him...that this is what we’d be doing?”

Felicity’s mouth pulled up into a smile. “Yeah...” she whispered, “this is exactly what I hoped we’d be doing.”

She heard the door open behind her, and Oliver slowly came in, shutting the door and shoving his hands in his pockets. His face was blank, his eyes on her as he waited for her to hang up. “Roy,” she said lowly, “I gotta go. We’ll be home in a couple hours.”

Oliver stalked towards her, “you’re stubborn,”

“I know.” Felicity put her phone down and started to push away from the desk, but Oliver pressed his palm to her stomach to stop her. He pushed her back until her ass met the edge of the desk again. Then his hands trailed to her legs and he eased her up on to it. She gasped when he shoved her legs apart a moment later. 

His office was tucked away from the party and the lights were off. She could still see the crowd, mostly drunk, from the windows. But none of them were paying attention to them. It sent a thrill down her spine to feel his hands on her, roaming over her body...while she could also see a group of people not too far away, appreciating her Hanukkah decorations. “Oliver...”

He pressed himself between her legs, rolling his hips. Grabbing her knees and hauling her to the edge of his desk, Oliver hooked her legs around his waist. Then he leaned her back, spreading her legs and tilting her head up so he could kiss her.

“You have guests,” she whispered into his mouth.

His reply was a low growl, a dismissal, before he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth. He bit down, making her wince and her heart race at the same time. His tongue soothed the spot as he released her lip. “You didn’t come back.”

Felicity smirked. “You didn’t expect me to.”

Oliver’s hands tightened on her waist, and he caught her chin between his fingers, meeting her eyes as he stared down his nose at her. “Did you want me to be rough with you, Felicity?”

She nodded, her hips moving into his on their own accord. “God, yes,” she groaned. He caught her hair between his fingers, gripping it to tilt her head back and sufficiently messing up the intricate bun she’d placed. But when he gave himself access to her neck, taking control and scraping his teeth along her skin, kissing and licking a path to her collarbone, she did not have a single care about how her hair might look after this.

It’d been over a week since they’d had any time alone aside from the few hours of sleep each night before EJ woke up and wanted to snuggle his way into their bed. Oliver moved his hands over her body slowly, his mouth moving at the same pace as he left marks all over her neck. He took his time, building her up and giving his attention to the curves of her body.

“Oliver,” Felicity sighed, slipping her hand between them. She grazed her fingers along his covered cock, feeling how hard he was. He was practically throbbing through his pants, making her arousal sky rocket. “Yes,” she groaned, reaching for his zipper.

His hand stopped hers, a gravelly noise of protest coming from his chest. She opened her eyes to meet his gaze, ready to pout. He shook his head, moving her hand up his chest. He guided her arm around his neck, giving her something to hold on to before he yanked her across the desk, her core colliding roughly with his cock. Felicity yelped, probably too loudly, but he didn’t flinch.

Her husband’s eyes darkened at the sound, and he thrusted into her, his erection slipping between her folds. She was wet. And his eyes slammed shut as it soaked onto his pants. 

Suddenly, the cool, confident, controlling man was gone. Oliver inhaled sharply, a curse falling from his lips as she rotated her hips, grinding against him until she felt his cock rubbing against her clit. She moaned, finding the adorable way he lost his breath just as attractive as the guy who promised to be rough. “You’re n-not, um, w-wearing anything under that, are you..?”

Felicity raised an eyebrow, shaking her head. 

“Y-you, um, you haven’t been wearing underwear all night?”

She grinned, shaking her head again.

“And...were you,” his mouth dropped as she pleasured herself on him, “were you planning on sharing that information with me at some point? Or was I just never going to find out that my wife not only wore the sexiest fucking dress she could find...but that she didn’t bother to wear anything else.”

Felicity didn’t mind admitting that she’d been hoping for something just like this to happen. She’d had a pair of panties in hand earlier that afternoon, planning on putting them on after her shower. But on a whim, she chose to drop them back into her drawer. But she didn’t tell him that. “Should I be telling you every time I’m not wearing underwear, Oliver?”

His pupils grew wide, his eyes finding hers and he nodded. “Damn. Yes, please. I mean, any time. Every time. I would...” he shivered, “really like to know.”

She laughed, crinkling her nose up at him. “Well...what if I don’t?”

Oliver watched her for a moment, understanding where she was going. He licked his lips, pulling his hips back, away from hers, and making her whimper. She couldn’t help but grin as he slipped back into that sexy, assertive control. “Felicity, I know every inch of your body.” He slid his finger down her arm, making her shiver. “I know how to make you tremble under my touch. I know where to kiss you to make you moan...” Oliver dipped his head to her ear, sucking on the spot just below her lobe. The moan that followed was involuntary, and proved his point.

When he pulled back to look down at her, he was smiling. “I know exactly how hard to fuck you if I want to hear you screaming my name. And I know exactly how slow to take it if I want to feel your legs shake...my face pressed between your thighs while I taste you.”

Felicity’s heart pounded in her chest, her hips thrusting wildly, seeking friction,  _needing_ the pleasure he described. “So, what...” she asked breathlessly, “you’ll tease me if I don’t share my underwear habits?”

Oliver shook his head, tucking her hair behind her ear. His eyes glanced over her face, appreciating the desire he found there. The effect he had.

“No, honey. You’re way too fucking gorgeous when you come.” Oliver whispered, “I would never want to mess with  _that_.” He smirked, “and I wouldn’t deny myself the pleasure of enjoying that view.

“I’m just saying...” He thrust his hips up into hers, making her eyes roll back and surely causing a stain on his slacks by now. “Knowing that you’re not wearing underwear...is really fucking hot.” Oliver bent down to whisper in her ear, “and I don’t mind showing you how much I love it.”

“Then show me,” she groaned back.


	8. Tell me what you want.

_Anonymous said: “Tell me what you want”_

 

* * *

“What do you mean you’re not here!?” Felicity wailed, hurrying out of her car because she was already late. “You said this would be a breeze.” She nearly dropped her phone as she stumbled her way through the alley, clumsily rushing towards the bright neon sign.

“I know, Smoak.” Tommy sighed, “I’m sorry. But Oliver’s in there. Don’t sweat it, you’re a natural.”

“Oh no,” she hissed, “no, no,  _no_. You told me that this interview was a formality. Just you and me having a couple of drinks and chatting. I look like a hot mess, I’m already late, and I am  _not_ meeting your business partner like  _this_!” She was already turning around, stomping back to her car.

“Stop,” Tommy snapped in her ear. “Get your ass in there, Smoak. You need the job. I told Oliver we’re hiring you.”

“Oliver Queen doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to take orders very well,” she grumbled back.

Tommy chuckled, “that’s the beauty of a partnership.”

“I swear to god, next time I see you...” Felicity sighed, heading back for Verdant. “You’re getting a four inch heel jammed straight into your eyeball.”

“Aw, I’ve missed your disgustingly violent threats,” he cooed. “I’m glad you’re back in town, Felicity. Now go charm my business partner’s pants off.”

She scoffed, “all pants will be staying on, thank you very much.”

“Seriously Felicity,” Tommy said, “he’s gonna love you. Just be yourself.”

“Fine,” Felicity grumbled. “But I still hate you,” she opened the door to the club, hanging up on him as soon as she felt the cool air from the AC blow onto her face. Well, at least she wouldn’t be an even  _sweatier_ mess than she already was.

Oliver was sitting at the bar with a stack of papers in front of him. The club was still under renovations, and she suspected that he was looking over the permits. Felicity plastered on a smile as she approached him. “Hi, I’m Felicity,” she said, offering her hand.

Glancing up from his work, Oliver looked down at her hand and then up at the clock. “You’re late.”

“I’m sorry...I-um, I kind of thought it was just going to be Tommy and I.”

“Tommy’s not here. Have a seat.”

“I know,” she breathed, pulling out the chair beside him and sitting down. “But I didn’t know and then I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do this interview, I mean, I wasn’t really prepared for a real job interview, so I sat in my car yelling at Tommy for a while and then I decided to come in and...” Felicity bit her lip, stopping herself from further embarrassment.

“You’re not the best at first impressions...are you, miss Smoak?”

“Felicity,” she corrected. Oliver just raised an eyebrow.

Then he put his pen down and turned to her. She watched as his eyes raked over her, and it suddenly felt like she was under a microscope. Naked. “Well...” he said, lifting his hand and waving it over the bar.

“Now?” Felicity panicked.

“What did you expect to be doing today?” He cocked his head to the side.

“Um, I don’t know, I mean, some kind of question and answer thing, I guess.”

Oliver stared at her, and for the first time in a long time, she got the sense that someone thought she was stupid. “I don’t care about your job experience, Miss Smoak,” he said slowly. “I just need to know if you can make a decent drink.”

His superior behavior boiled her blood. It was clear that he wanted to get this over with, probably thinking she had no business applying for a job as a bartender. And he wasn’t wrong. Tommy was doing her a favor. But her Computer Science degree didn’t mean that she didn’t know how to pour a good drink. She’d tended bar in college, and had more fun doing it than any office job she’d held.

She just wanted something different for a while before she really found her place in the technological field. 

Oliver was quick to write her off though. Which was infuriating. 

Felicity hopped down from her stool and rounded the bar. She took a deep breath, grateful that her anger was washing away her nerves. Felicity raised her eyebrows at him. “Tell me what you want.”

Her tone was intentional. She knew how to keep someone’s interest from across the bar. How to flirt without compromising herself. By the way Oliver’s eyes widened slightly, she knew she still had it. He watched her for another moment before mumbling, “an old fashioned.”

Felicity tried not to roll her eyes, nodding to him as she reached for the glasses. She’d never stepped foot in the club, let alone worked behind the bar. But most bars had a similar layout, and it didn’t take her long to figure it out, sliding the drink in front of him.

As he took a sip, Felicity kept her eyes on him. She doubted that Oliver was the kind of man to lie. If he thought it was bad, he’d say so. She caught the slight surprise on his face as he swallowed. Impressed. Not that he said so. “How about a whiskey sour?”

Smirking, Felicity got to work. 

He made various requests, some classic and some a little more difficult. He tested her with a few he thought she hadn’t heard of. He challenged her by rattling off a specific drink, being picky about how to make it. But she listened and nodded, getting it perfect.

Oliver asked her questions as they went, everything from previous jobs, to hobbies, to her personality. And his smile grew a little more with each sip and with each answer. Felicity could tell that she was winning him over. 

“Well, Miss Smoak,” he sighed after an hour. “You seem like a wonderful woman...but I’m just not sure this is the job for you. You were a double major at M.I.T. I need to hire someone that sticks around, and this would clearly be a temporary job for you.” Oliver shrugged, “it’s a new business and I need a special kind of charm that will keep customers coming back.”

“You don’t think people would want to come back if I’m their bar tender?” She challenged, “you don’t find me charming?”

Oliver tapped his fingers on the bar, “that’s not what I’m saying...”

Narrowing her eyes, Felicity pulled her jacket off. All right, if he was going to play that card, she could up her game. 

Setting up the glasses and shakers first, Felicity turned on her heel like she’d been working at Verdant for years, pulling two bottles from the shelf and flipping them in each hand. She moved quickly, throwing in a few tricks as she filled the shakers with ice, poured the alcohol, and put everything back in its place within two minutes. 

Felicity leaned in, sliding one shot glass across the bar to Oliver in a careful move that she knew from experience caught most men’s eye. Oliver wasn’t immune, and she bit her lip as his wide eyes fell to her breasts.

“What’s this?” He asked, his gaze moving back up to hers. The shots were bright green, on par with the club. She knew that if he was smart, having a signature shot at Verdant would be good business. Her talents were far more beneficial than just tending bar.

“Venom,” she answered, raising an eyebrow and lifting her shot to his. He tapped his glass against hers, and they kicked them back in unison. Oliver raised his eyebrow as they swallowed, and Felicity smiled. Remembering the role she had so much fun playing in college, she turned on her charm. He was a fool if he didn’t think she knew how to do this. How to work a crowd. How to ensure her tips. 

“I wasn’t trying to offend you,” he mumbled, unable to take his eyes off of her. Just where she wanted him. “You clearly know what you’re doing.”

“Look, I can’t promise you that I’ll be here for years,” she shrugged, glancing around the room. “But I like this place. I love Tommy, and...maybe you’re not so bad.”

Oliver huffed out a laugh, and Felicity bit her lip. “Aren’t  _I_ supposed to be the one judging  _you_ here?”

Felicity shrugged, “that may be,” she moved to climb up on the bar, ignoring Oliver’s suspicious glance. Standing above him, Felicity put her hands on her hips. “But I think you need me.”

Slowly, she started walking across the wood, “see, I can see this place full of people. But energy is even more important than numbers.”

“My club isn’t Coyote Ugly, Miss Smoak.”

“You’d be so lucky,” Felicity teased, throwing him a wink.

Laughing, Oliver shook his head. “Please get down from there. I don’t want to get sued before you even start.”

Brazen, Felicity walked back over to him, her hips swinging. She sat down on the bar in front of him, watching as his eyebrows shot up. Placing her feet on either side of his chair, her toes grazing underneath his thighs, Felicity watched his reactions. The sharp breath he let out, the way his fingers twitched instinctively to reach for her before he dropped them into his lap. Oliver stared up at her, his pupils dilated, curious. “Does that mean I have the job?” She whispered.

Oliver swallowed, “you’re definitely something special, Miss Smoak.” Shaking his head, he sighed. “Tommy told me that I wouldn’t be able to say no.”

“He’s smarter than he looks.”

“I’d be an idiot not to hire you, wouldn’t I?” Oliver mumbled to himself. He pulled his lips to the side, thinking. And then his eyes trailed up her legs, over her body until his eyes were on hers, “you can start on Friday.”

She beamed down at him, “thank you.” The smile he gave her in return was genuine, a soft pull at the corner of his lips. And as she looked into his eyes, she felt something shift. Clearly Oliver felt it too, because his eyes pinned her in place, staring at her like he could see right into her soul. 

What. The.  _Hell_?

Unprepared for the onslaught of desire that bubbled under her skin, Felicity watched as he licked his lips. She’d shown up to the bar expecting to share a drink with an old friend. She’d walked in expecting to be scrutinized. The last thing she expected was to have her ass on his bar, straddling his stool and suddenly hoping he’d take her right there.

She felt Oliver’s hands graze her knees, and then he stood up, his eyes still hot on hers. Felicity’s mouth dropped open, his fingers leaving a trail of heat on her skin. 

All sense of reason went out the window, the only think she could process was the gorgeous eyes that refused to release her from their appraisal. “This is probably a very bad idea,” he breathed, not taking his hands or eyes off of her.

Her fingers found his instinctively, guiding them up her thighs. Felicity nodded, “probably.” She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead to his. Her hands gripped his wrists, his palms warming her skin. “But I don’t want you to stop,” Felicity whispered back.

When he tightened his grip and pulled her across the bar, she gasped. When he hesitated with his lips an inch away from hers, she didn’t have a thought in her head, just feeling the electricity coursing between them. When he was close enough to taste, she didn’t stop to think before she kissed him. And when he pushed her to lay down across the bar, she pulled him on top of her.

It all happened too fast for her to really care that he was a perfect stranger. One who had just hired her. Who would be her boss. Because it felt so damn  _good_. In a matter of minutes, Oliver was hovering over her, his weight pressing against her as his tongue found its way into her mouth. She moaned, grabbing his waist and pulling him harder between her legs. 

She could feel his hard cock rubbing against her, and she lifted her hips off the bar to meet him, feeling herself completely lose all sense of reason as he thrusted down, his thick erection teasing her.

He kissed his way across her skin, his breath on her neck driving her  _crazy_. It was completely instinctive. As a person who could never seem to get out of her own head, she didn’t do  _this_. Yet, for whatever reason, Felicity let go, calling out his name. Oliver picked his head up, kneeling between her legs. His eyes were questioning, and she nodded, “touch me, yes, touch me,” she mumbled breathlessly.

His eyes roamed down her body as he pulled back, breathing heavily as he took in the sight of her sprawled out on his bar. Oliver spread her legs wider, reaching beneath her dress and pushing her panties aside. She groaned her approval, arching her back against the wooden counter as his fingers skimmed over her slick folds.

She gasped when he leaned down to press an open mouthed kiss against her sex. And then he moved his mouth up her body, his index finger teasing her at the same time, swirling in her essence.

Even as she rocked her hips into his hand, he didn’t push inside. Not until he reached her lips again. Oliver kissed his, his mouth devouring her, pleasure rising in her chest and then exploding when he finally shoved his fingers into her. “Oh, god,” she groaned.

Curling his fingers, Oliver stroked her with an unexpected gentle touch, “okay?” he breathed, sounding just as affected as she was.

“More than okay,” she grinned back. 

He smirked down at her, moving his thumb to rub her clit as he fucked her. Oliver’s eyes were on her face, watching every tiny expression as he explored. She cried out when his thumb rubbed harder, making harsh little circles as his fingers sped up. It only intensified her pleasure to know that he was staring at her, focused on learning what felt good for her. 

It was  _hot_.

He didn’t stop until she was coming around his fingers, pulling him in, her walls pulsing around him. He held her close as she came, letting her come apart in his arms. 

When the haze cleared, Felicity opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling. She felt like she was coming back to her body, remembering where she was and with who. She blinked, feeling Oliver’s lips on her chest. He picked his head up as if he could sense her nerves returning. Because what the  _fuck_ just happened?

 _The best orgasm of your life, that’s what,_  she thought. Then she met his gaze, her cheeks burning red with embarrassment. Hooking up with strangers was not...something she was used to. Doing  _that_ with a man she’d only met two hours ago was crazy. But for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what had come over her. 

She’d  _needed_ him.

Oliver watched her with wide eyes, and she could see the recognition in his eyes. The disappointment in her discomfort. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, lifting himself off of her.

Felicity opened her mouth to respond, but she had no idea what to say. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy it. She didn’t even regret it...she was just confused. “No...” Felicity shook her head, “no, I...” she tried to find something, still gaping at him.

His expression was sweet, different than the cold man she’d met not too long ago. In the next moment, he was gently helping her off the bar, making sure she was steady on her feet. “Thank you, Felicity,” he said lowly, his eyebrows furrowing. And she wasn’t quite sure what he was thanking her for. He plastered on a smile, one that said everything was fine. “If you’d still like the position, we’d be happy to have you.”

She just stared at him, wondering if she’d die from mortification if she tried to work there, for the guy that had just made her body feel like it was on fire. Serving drinks right on that bar, where his fingers had made her fly apart. “Okay...”

He smiled politely, careful to keep up the fake pretense that they didn’t just completely throw  _control_ out the window like two teenagers. “Okay,” he sighed. “Maybe I’ll see you soon, then.” She could see that he was waiting for some kind of a sign, an indication of how she was feeling. 

But she couldn’t think straight; either from the orgasm or the sudden turn of events. “Thank you for the job,” she blurted, “and the sex.”

His chin jerked up, his eyebrows raising. “Uh, y-you’re welcome.”

Felicity waved awkwardly, shuffling towards the door on shaky legs, wondering where the hell of all her confidence had run off to. “See you Friday.”


	9. I'll just have to come inside you then.

The street was abandoned. Dark, cold, and way too quiet.

It gave her the creeps. But Felicity pushed on, her heels clicking along the pavement as she started to walk a little faster.

Her adrenaline was slowly beginning to rise, especially when she noticed a green hood on the roof across the street.

He was following her.

The Hood was lurking in the shadows and watching her. Just as she’d planned. Taking a sharp right, Felicity stumbled into a dead-end. It was the back alley behind an Italian restaurant, and there was nowhere to go unless she turned around. And if she did that, she knew who she’d see.

Felicity could vaguely hear the kitchen crew washing the dishes, clanking around behind the brick wall of the restaurant. She took a deep breath in, trying to calm down and focus on the delicious smells coming from the restaurant. Anything to take her mind off the fact that he was somewhere above her. Watching.

But then an arrow whizzed by her head, and she yelped. Felicity’s eyes widened as the arrow landed in the wall at the end of the alley. Knowing that he was right behind her, Felicity shivered.

Turning slowly, she watched as The Hood stalked towards her. His face was covered, only his jawline visible. And damn, he had a gorgeous jaw, chiseled and dusted with facial hair. His lips were curved, pulled downward like the bow in his hands.

And he was closing in on her.

The Hood moved towards her like a lion circling its prey, and she swore her heart was going to beat out of her chest. Felicity swallowed roughly, unable to blink out of fear that he’d make a move she wouldn’t see.

Yet he remained steady, taking slow and torturous steps. His feet didn’t make a single sound.

“Felicity Smoak,” he growled when he reached her. “I’ve been looking for you.”

He didn’t stop. The Hood kept advancing on her until he was inches away. She had to look up to see him, staring into his bright blue eyes that popped even beneath his hood and mask.

She took an instinctive step away from him, not taking her eyes off his face. Felicity backed up until her ass touched the wall behind her. He hovered for a moment, like he was contemplating how rough he needed to be. And then he shifted, fidgeting with the bow in his left hand.

Slightly mesmerized, Felicity stared when The Hood followed after her.

With nowhere else to go, she pushed into the wall, refusing to blink as his free hand came up to grip her waist, pinning her against it. He dropped his bow, neither of them noticing as it crashed on the pavement at their feet. His other hand snaked up to rest on the wall by her head.

She glanced at his gloved fingers, the way he held her between each arm, trapping her between the wall and his solid chest.

Closing her eyes, Felicity waited for the harshness. The fantasy she’d had in her brain for way too long. The Hood...rough and demanding, fucking her in whatever way he pleased. She wanted to feel his punishing thrusts, hear his wild grunts, see him lose control as he found pleasure in her body. Because of her. She wanted to watch the city’s protector come apart. Taking what he wanted, losing himself in  _her_.

“Did you want me to find you, Ms. Smoak?” He asked, his voice gravely. She bit her lip and nodded. “Because you wanted me to touch you?” Felicity felt heat rushing between her legs, her body aching to feel the cool leather rubbing her sensitive clit.

As if he could read her mind, she felt his fingers slowly glide through her hair. They touched her skin, and she shivered at the feel of the cold leather, her eyes fluttering shut. The Hood dragged his thumb across her bottom lip, groaning his appreciation before his hand skimmed down her neck and chest.

Then he pushed his hand into her shirt, shoving the buttons open and not caring if they broke or not. Not that she gave a single damn, either.

“You need to breathe, baby.” He grumbled into her neck, palming her breast. His voice was so quiet that she wasn’t sure she heard him at first.

Opening her eyes, Felicity pulled back so she could meet his gaze. He took a deep breath in...she instinctively did the same.

And she didn’t see The Hood anymore.

She saw the guy who lounged on the couch with her watching Doctor Who. She saw the sweet man who knew all of his son’s friends’ names and insisted on bringing them all out for ice cream after a baseball game, win or lose.

Felicity saw her husband who really, really wanted a baby. Bad enough that he’d put on his green leathers and stalk her into a grimy alley.

Felicity licked her lips, “baby?”

Oliver cleared his throat, trying to get back his intimidating air, but the thrill was slowly leaving her. “You stopped breathing,” he mumbled, glancing away from her. “I can’t exactly do this if you’re going to forget to breathe.”

Taking in a big, obvious breath, Felicity let it out slowly. He stared at her, and she tried to fight a smile. “This is silly, isn’t it?” she asked, pulling at the green leather over his chest.

Shaking his head, Oliver’s fingers loosened, making her whimper. “It’s not silly. We agreed to try new things. I just had no idea  _this_ was something you fantasized about.” His face was covered by the mask, but she could see the humor in his eyes. The teasing.

“Oh my god,” Felicity groaned. “Are we too old for this? Is that why we suck at it so bad?”

Oliver let out a breathy laugh over her head. “We do  _not_ suck at sex,” he argued. “And we are not  _old_.”

“William’s going to be in high school next month,” Felicity whined, pulling back to look at her husband. “We’re parents of a full-grown  _teenager_. That seems old to me.”

“No, old is living in a nursing home and going to daily bingo,” Oliver smirked, “but I’ll still be making you scream my name even then.”

Felicity laughed, nudging her fingers under his hood and touching his neck. There had always been a part of her that loved touching him like that. When he was coming or going from the bunker, dressed in his leathers, something about knowing The Green Arrow was  _hers_...it was a total turn on.

But even before they got married, before he even kissed her for the first time, she’d had more than one fantasy about him coming back from a mission and fucking her on her desk until she saw stars.

She’d never really voiced the fantasy. He knew she thought it was sexy, but part of the arousal in the beginning had been the gritty, intense, dangerous looking man. Before she’d gotten to know him as the giant teddy bear he really could be.

Which, of course, had led to their current situation...

“I swear Thea said this works,” Felicity mumbled under her breath, letting out a deep sigh.

As Oliver blinked at her, Felicity pinched her lips together, cursing her non-existent filter. She watched his eyes change from confusion to horror. “You got sex advice from my sister?” he deplored. And then his eyes widened, “wait, you’re saying that Thea and Roy...in the suit...”

“Oh god,” she groaned, closing her eyes. “We’ve gone from nursing homes to your sister’s sex life. This is officially an epic fail.”

He huffed, his expression disgusted as he stepped away from her. Felicity sighed, adjusting her shirt and what was left of the buttons. “We can try again, Oliver. And we can keep trying.”

“Maybe we’re trying too hard,” he mumbled back.

Felicity smiled sadly up at him. “You’re probably right,” she admitted gently even though it killed her to have to acknowledge it. They both wanted a baby more than anything. She wouldn’t say that sex was becoming a chore...but... “Making babies isn’t supposed to be hard,” she shrugged, taking his hand and pulling him out of the shadows. “I think it’s supposed to be fun.”

“Then let’s just have fun, stop thinking about getting pregnant and just lose ourselves in each other like we always do,” he shrugged.

She scoffed, “you make it sound easy.” When they both knew it wasn’t. Actively trying to get pregnant and continually being disappointed when it didn’t happen was  _stressful_. And sad.

Oliver stopped, halting her with his hand in hers when she kept walking. She turned to look at him with a question on her lips, but he pulled her against his chest before she could ask. As she stared up at him, his eyes hardened, his jaw tightening.

Turning her, Oliver walked her back against the wall, not saying a word, staring down at her with a calculating gaze. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you, Felicity.” His leather-clad palms flattened over her ass, pulling her closer to rub against him. His hands pulled her close but his hips pushed her back, trapping her between him and the wall, creating a torturous friction.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped. And Oliver growled as he watched her face, dropping his mouth to her neck. He licked and sucked on her throat until she was aching for him. Scratching his teeth along her skin, Oliver lifted her leg to wrap around his hip. Then he hiked her skirt up, getting the material out of the way so he could rub himself against her.

Sliding his hand between their bodies, he shoved his hand into her panties without warning, cupping her sex harshly and listening to her cry out. “Yes!”

He could feel how wet she was, soaking his gloved fingers.

Grunting his satisfaction, Oliver pulled his hips back. “Unbutton my pants,” he told her, and Felicity’s fingers flew to his zipper, doing as he asked.

Once she was free, Felicity stroked his length, squeezing him in her hand. His eyes fluttered shut, and she stared up at him, turned on beyond belief at the sight of him. At what they were doing. Felicity slid her leg down, moving to kneel in front of him. “Ever since I met you,” he murmured, gripping her hair in his hands, guiding her down, “I wanted to know what that bright pink lipstick would look like all over my cock.”

His eyes opened, watching her as she rested her back against the wall. Felicity kissed the head of his erection, glancing up to meet his eyes as her lips wrapped around him.

It was the pure arousal in her gaze that made him snap.

He grabbed her arms, heaving her up until she was on her feet again. And then he tossed her leg over his hip again and shoved into her to the hilt. Felicity gasped, feeling his full length stretching her walls. She scrambled for purchase, clawing at his back as he rocked into her again. He slid in easily, perfectly, her juices coating him.

Sharing a breath, Oliver froze for one moment, just long enough to meet her gaze. He watched as her eyes glanced over his mask, enticing him, and then she wrapped her arms around him, too, holding on for the ride. Seeing her satisfied eyes slip shut as her fantasy played out, Oliver gave in to the wild desire stirring inside him.

His hips began to move, fucking her roughly against the wall as he set a punishing and frantic pace. Her body welcomed him, her walls pulsing as he slipped in and out of her in her arousal. And there wasn’t a bone in either of their bodies that was thinking about babies. Felicity keened, “oh my god. Fuck! Yes, Oliver. Yes!”

He was sending her body into a whirlwind of ecstasy. His hips slamming into hers made it feel like a free fall. One where the only thing she could do was wrap her arms and legs around him and hold on as tight as she could.

“Sometimes I thought about what you’d do,” Oliver grunted, his hot breath making her shiver as he whispered the words in her ear. “If I just went over and pulled that ponytail out of your hair...dragged you out of that chair and screwed you as hard as I could right there on the floor.”

“Oh,” she moaned, her hips rocking into his as she imagined it; that little basement bunker. How many times had she fantasizes the same thing?

Felicity knew his body. She knew his signs. The breathless way he spoke, his teeth sucking his lower lip into his mouth. He was close, and she was only moments away from her own orgasm. “Oliver,” she pulled back slightly to smirk at him. “This is a new skirt...I don’t want you making a mess of it.” She mumbled innocently, her body writhing against his.

“I’ll just have to come inside you then.”

She rolled her hips into his, groaning. “Yes.”

With three more forceful thrusts, Oliver drove into her until he came. “Felicity,” he moaned her name.

“Oh my god,” she clenched her legs around him, watching his face as she felt him twitching inside of her, filling her.

She came with a shout, grounding down against Oliver and squeezing him tighter, making him hiss as she continued to ride his sensitive cock. 

Her head dropped back, but Oliver’s hand rushed up to catch it before she hit the wall behind her. He pulled her head towards him, guiding her face to his neck.

As he kissed her cheek, her hair, her temple, Felicity came down, her body feeling light as a feather. “Are you kidding me?” she chuckled breathlessly, nipping at his neck before she pulled back to smile at him. “Why the hell didn’t we do this ten years ago?”

Oliver laughed, shaking his head. “Because I was an idiot.”

“Ah,” she touched his jaw, looking up at him with a satisfied, post-orgasm grin. “That’s right, I remember now.”


	10. That's probably the fastest I've ever done that.

Sequel to chapter 8

_Prompt: "That's probably the fastest I've ever done that."_

* * *

 

It was impossible not to watch Oliver Queen. Everything he did, he did with confidence. This air of intrigue and sophistication followed him around the club.

Being the bartender meant she got front row seats to see the way he diffused bar fights as if it was nothing, kept his workers honest and happy, and handled upset customers by simply offering them a free drink. But somehow making them feel like they were receiving a cruise trip for their troubles.

As she watched him, she couldn’t help but smile slightly at the way he talked to an out of town couple, stopping by to get a drink as they passed through. They’d only opened the doors an hour ago and it was still early, so the bar was relatively empty. And it wasn’t lost on Felicity that Oliver Queen was the kind of owner to stop and chat with customers any time he had a chance.

She listened as he asked about the road trip the couple was in the midst of, seeming genuinely interested to hear their stories.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Felicity’s eyes shifted from Oliver to Tommy, who sat at the bar in front of her. She set down the glass she was drying. Frowning at her friend, Felicity shrugged, “what?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me, Smoak.”

Feigning innocence, Felicity stared at him. “You want me to pretend he’s not an attractive man?” She raised an eyebrow. “Would that be better?”

“Of course he’s attractive,” Tommy mumbled. “He’s sex on a stick. But that doesn’t mean that you’re allowed to have that stick.” Felicity snorted, and Tommy rolled his eyes, “you know what I mean.”

She forced a smile, “don’t worry about it. That’s...definitely not happening.” It was hard to forget about the day she was hired, what Oliver had done to her, right there on the bar where she worked every night. But in the last few weeks, Oliver seemed like he had forgotten completely, so she tried to do the same.

“Felicity,” Tommy got her attention. “I mean it.”

“Whatever,” Felicity threw the towel in her hand at his face. “I might work for you, but you’re not the boss of me.”

“Look, I love you, and I love Oliver. I’m just trying to stop a train wreck before it happens.”

Making herself look busy as she put the glasses away, Felicity asked nonchalantly, “why do you think it’d be a train wreck?”

When Tommy didn’t answer, Felicity’s back stiffened, but she kept working. She could feel his gaze on her back, and after a moment of awkward silence, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “Smoak,” Tommy said slowly, his eyes narrowing, “you like him, don’t you?”

Felicity scoffed, “I barely know him. So no, I don’t  _like_ him.” Except his eyes were gorgeous, and his face was perfectly chiseled, and his muscles made her mouth water, and he  _cared_. She could see how much the business and its customers meant to Oliver. He was passionate about it. And that was almost as hot as his biceps. Almost.

But she didn’t like him.

“Fine,” Tommy sighed, pushing back from the table, “I’ve got to run some errands before it gets too busy. Need anything?”

“No,” she shook her head, smiling at him. “Just be back before the craziness starts,” Felicity gave him a warning look. “Tequila Shot Tuesday was your idea.”

Tommy winked, “hell yeah it was! And it’s a brilliant one. See you in a bit.”

Shaking her head again, Felicity watched Tommy as he walked out of the club, not missing his opportunity to wink at the two girls sitting in a corner booth, grinning like a devil when they giggled and waved.

“Okay,” Felicity sighed, throwing one more glance at Oliver before she got started on setting up the bar. He was still deep in conversation with the couple, smiling at whatever story the man was telling with his hands.

She made sure the bar was fully stocked with tequila, the cupboard underneath her work space lined with twenty extra bottles for easy access, and a dozen more on the shelves. The fridge was full of sliced limes, and there was plenty of salt in dishes on the bar. Felicity nodded to herself, pleased with her preparation.

Glancing at the glasses, she pulled her lips to the side, knowing that she’d still be making plenty of mixed drinks, but wondering if she’d need more shot glasses.

“Better safe than sorry,” Felicity mumbled to herself. She rounded the bar and headed for the storage room. Oliver met her eyes as she moved up the stairs, and she stared at him a moment too long before she chose to give him an awkward smile and wave. He nodded in acknowledgement, turning back to the couple.

Aside from communicating about her shifts and work-related needs....that was about the most she got out of him. It was somewhat irritating, seeing how friendly and charming Oliver was towards everyone else on staff. Yet when he spoke to her, she felt like he couldn’t end the conversation quick enough.

Pushing through the door, Felicity started her search for the spare shot glasses. She found them on the top shelf, of course. Too high for her to reach without something to stand on.

Felicity groaned as she looked up at the box with dread, wishing Tommy hadn’t left.

There was a perfectly tall, perfectly handsome man downstairs who could reach the box easily, but she didn’t dare ask him for help.

Taking a breath, Felicity climbed up onto the first shelf, reaching for the top. She gripped her fingers on the box, pulling it slowly towards the edge. But she hesitated, realizing that she had no idea what she’d do once she had it. With only had one hand to pull the box, she could just imagine the embarrassment she’d feel when it came crashing down on her head and Oliver ended up having to drive her to the emergency room.

“Hm,” she mumbled to herself, staring up at the problem and trying to think of a solution.

“Let me help, let me help,” Oliver’s voice surprised her, making her gasp, but he was right behind her, lifting his hands above them and taking the box down. He set it on the floor at his feet, glancing up at her. Then he held his hand out, helping her as she hopped down from the shelf. “I’d rather you didn’t shatter half of our shot glasses, Felicity.” He gave her a look, “or hurt yourself...Tommy and I can’t afford a lawsuit right now.”

She crossed her arms, biting her lip awkwardly, “sorry, I thought I had it.”

He gestured to the door, “you could have asked me. I was right downstairs.”

“I know,” she shifted on her feet, a little embarrassed. “You looked busy.”

Oliver nodded, not taking his eyes off her for the first time since her interview. Really looking at her instead of making minimal eye contact like he had been for the past two weeks. “Just...next time...” he scratched his neck.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “thank you.”

He didn’t answer, glancing away before leaning over to lift the box again.

Felicity bit her lip, feeling a familiar bubbling in her throat; the need to say something. Oh no. She’d been suppressing it for too long. The babbling that always embarrassed her was right on the tip of her tongue. Ready to word vomit. She watched the muscles on Oliver’s back as he carried the box out of the room, and she almost made it.

But just as he reached the door, she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“Is there a reason you don’t like me?”

Oliver turned to look at her, stopping in the doorway. His eyes widened at her blunt confrontation, and she lifted her chin, choosing not to back down or apologize. She wanted to know. Especially if she had to keep working with him. “I mean, I know you weren’t thrilled about hiring me at first, but I thought I changed your mind during my interview. With my skill. Not my  _skill_. Well, my skill at  _bar tending,_ I mean!” She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep breath before she continued. “I just...I feel like I’ve been doing a pretty decent job. And you seem to like everyone else, so,” she lifted her shoulders, “have I done something to upset you?”

He sighed, his eyes softening a bit as he watched her. Coming back into the room, Oliver set the box down on the desk. Then he crossed his arms, “after what happened...it seemed quite clear that you regretted it. I’ve just been trying to make this comfortable for you. Working here, I mean.”

“By barely looking at me?”

“I didn’t mean for it to come off like that,” he mumbled, making sure to keep his full attention on her now. “You’re a fantastic bartender, Felicity. And I don’t want what happened the day we met to get in the way of you working with us. I don’t really know what that was,” he started to scratch at his neck again, “I just...got carried away, I guess.”

“I wasn’t saying no, Oliver. We both chose to do...do that.” He nodded once, looking at her like he was hanging on every word. The expression, and attention if she was being honest, was a welcome change. “The only thing I regret is that it’s made you treat me differently than everyone else. That kind of sucks.”

Guilt clouded his features, “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to make you feel unwelcome. I guess I didn’t realize it was bothering you.”

She nodded once, straightening her shoulders, “well now you do.”

“Okay,” Oliver smiled gently, “so, we’re good here?”

“No more awkwardness?”

His smile grew a little wider, and he lifted up three fingers, “Scout’s honor.”

Felicity snorted, rolling her eyes, “of course you were a Boy Scout.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Oliver asked, still smirking at her.

“Nothing,” she shrugged, making her way over to him. Felicity gestured at his face and chest, “just...all of this screams ‘Boy Scout.’ I should have guessed.”

Oliver laughed, “well, I quit when I was ten, so you’re hardly right.”

“Still counts,” she nudged her shoulder against Oliver’s arm, her heart feeling a little lighter because of how easy it was to joke with him. After weeks of stiff interaction, it felt really good to have the air cleared, and to fall into banter that felt natural.

“Hey,” Oliver caught her hand as she pulled back. “I really am sorry for making you feel like I didn’t like you. Or that I didn’t want you here. The truth is the complete opposite, Felicity.”

She looked down at their hands, hers tiny in comparison. “I like working here,” she smiled.

“Good,” Oliver grinned back, his hand squeezing hers. 

Her eyes instinctively shifted to his mouth as he spoke, watching the curve of his lips and remembering the way they felt. And yes, she wanted to feel them again. 

Badly.

Now.

The need took her by surprise, just as intense and unexpected as the first time. She licked her lips, feeling it nonetheless.

“Felicity,” Oliver gasped, as if he could feel the desire radiating off of her. And maybe he could. “We shouldn’t...that shouldn’t happen again.”

“Okay,” she whispered back, biting her lip. Oliver tugged on Felicity’s hand, contradicting his words as he pulled her closer. She leaned towards him, her mouth coming within inches of his. The fact that he didn’t budge, swallowing as his eyes fell to her mouth, only made her feel even more excited. “How about I touch you this time?”

She watched his eyes spark with arousal, a sharp breath escaping his lips. “Come here,” he mumbled softly, his voice sweet as he reached for her other hand, drawing her against his chest. He met her eyes, and there was understanding between them. A simple agreement. Transparent, mutual desire.  _This is happening. Now._

In the next moment, Oliver’s fingers tightened, still intertwined with hers, and he walked her backwards, kicking the door shut before he pressed her against it. And then his body was there, caging her between his hard chest and the cold metal door. Oliver kept his eyes on her, their breaths getting heavier as anticipation rose. He nudged his knee between her legs.

When she gasped, feeling herself begin to ache, her need to be touched on overdrive, Oliver licked his lips.

He stared down at her as if he was trying to remember every sound she made, every expression on her face, every touch that turned her on. And she couldn’t help but smile, because he really didn’t even have to try. He  _looked_ at her, and she was turned on. But when he touched her? God, it wasn’t even fair how ready her body was.

Her hips moved instinctively, seeking friction against his leg. She could feel his erection on her thigh, and Oliver let out a heavy breath, his forehead pressing against hers as she circled her hips into his, straddling his leg. For once, Felicity really wished she was wearing a dress instead of pants.

“Fuck,” Oliver grumbled when she moaned, increasing her pace. He kept his leg firmly between hers, glancing down to watch as she rubbed herself against him. He growled again, a low, guttural sound from his chest, and then he was lifting her hands above her head, slamming them against the door and pressing himself harder against her.

Felicity cried out, but his mouth was on hers a moment later, swallowing her moans while his tongue slid in to taste her. She could feel herself climbing towards an orgasm already, her head getting lighter, her body desperate for release.

Letting go of her hands, Oliver’s fingers drifted down her arms and over her chest and stomach, he stopped at the hem of her shirt, looking up as her hands fell limply onto his broad shoulders. She could see the question in his eyes. And she knew that the whimper she gave in response was needy as hell, but she didn’t care. Oliver’s eyes darkened at the sound, as if he wanted to make her come as much as her body craved it.

He pulled her shirt up, revealing a black but not very sexy bra. Felicity only had a moment to curse her earlier choice of ‘comfy bra’ before Oliver was pulling that up, too, barely noticing and not caring what she was wearing. When he bit his lip, bending down to press a kiss to the tops of each breast, she groaned, her head rolling back against the door.

Leaning forward, Oliver’s mouth roamed over the curve of her breast, pausing when he reached her nipple. His tongue flicked out, wetting the sensitive nub, and her back stiffened, her hips starting to move again. Oliver groaned when she ground against him, finding friction from the seam of her pants, right over her clit.

“Shit, Felicity,” he took her nipple into his mouth and sucked, causing her to cry out again.

She picked her head up to glance at him, finding his eyes open and watching her. When she met his gaze, Oliver let his teeth scrape across her nipple, biting down gently. His tongue soothed the spot quickly, his eyes on her the whole time, staring with that curiosity as if he wanted to learn and remember everything she responded to.

Felicity could feel her body reacting, climbing, as her breath hitched in her throat. But still, she was so focused on feeling that her orgasm came unexpectedly. Felicity’s fingers flew to his hair, looking for something to hold on to. She buried her face in his neck, letting out a strangled moan while her body pushed over the edge, her hips slamming down against his thigh in jerky thrusts. As after waves of pleasure rippled through her, she finally loosed her grip on his hair, running her fingers through it in apology.

Coming down, her body felt light, the orgasm taking its time, pleasure slowly fading as she came back to herself. Felicity felt Oliver’s arm come around her waist, holding her upright, “did you just...”

“Yeah,” she breathed, opening her eyes and blinking down at him. 

Oliver smirked, “that’s probably the fastest I’ve ever done that.”

She chuckled, pulling him back up to her mouth so she could kiss him. “Don’t gloat,” she mumbled against his lips between kisses, “just see if you can do it again.”

Feeling him smile, Oliver nodded, “mmm, I’m more curious to see  _how many more_   _times_ I can do it again.”

Felicity opened her eyes, raising an eyebrow as she met his confident expression. But the cockiness didn’t bother her. If her satisfied, hazy state was any indication, he’d earned a little bit of arrogance. Especially if he wanted to keep making her come. Felicity smiled back at him crookedly, “I’m not going to object to that.”

Oliver nipped at her bottom lip, “good,” he practically purred, opening his mouth to say more but he was cut off by a loud banging on the door.

“Felicity?” Tommy’s voice called through the thick metal, effectively killing the mood. “Oliver, you in there? It’s starting to get busy down here. Where the hell are you two?”

“Uh, one second, Tommy!” Oliver blurted, earning a hard, instinctive slap to his chest from Felicity. “Ow,” he rubbed the spot, frowning at her. He quickly tugged her bra and shirt back into place for her, and they checked each other over. Felicity wiped some of her lipstick from Oliver’s mouth while he fixed her hair back into place.

Then they looked at each other again; shy, flirtatious smiles reaching both of their faces. She cleared her throat, pushing him back and pointing to the box while her other hand found the doorknob. She waited until Oliver had it in his arms before she swung the door open. “Hi Tommy, bye Tommy. Need to get these shot glasses down to the bar. Thanks for the help Oliver,” She babbled as he walked by her with the box.

Oliver nodded awkwardly to Tommy, then to her. “No problem.”

Once he was around the corner, Tommy looked at her pointedly. “Oh, come on.” He gestured between her and the place Oliver had disappeared. “Am I really supposed to believe the ‘we were just studying with the door closed’ excuse?”

“What?” She gave him a bewildered expression as she pushed by, closing and locking the supply room behind them. “Who said anything about studying?”

“Uh, your attempt at hiding the fact that you were just getting hot and heavy with Oliver is about as believable as horny teenagers.”

“Oh, so you.”

“Weak, Smoak,” Tommy shot back, catching up to her as she retreated. “Weak insult, weak attempt at diversion.” He grabbed her arm. “Felicity, why are you lying to me? We’ve been friends forever. And he’s my business partner. There shouldn’t be secrets here, it’ll only end in disaster.”

She sighed, “I don’t know what’s going on Tommy, but when I do, I promise I’ll tell you.”

“So you’re telling me you and Oliver haven’t been hooking up for the past two weeks?”

“No,” she answered carefully, shaking her head. That wasn’t  _exactly_ true. But it was clear that something was happening between her and Oliver. “Look, we’ve got to get down there, now’s not the time.”

Felicity blew past him, jogging down the stairs. Her eyes widened when she saw how full the place already was. They didn’t start pouring the half priced shots for another half an hour. “Are they afraid we’ll run out of tequila or something?” Felicity grumbled, coming up beside Oliver and helping him unpack the box.

Oliver just shrugged, glancing down at her. “Does Tommy uh...?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I don’t even think  _we_ know what the hell is going on right now, so...”

“Yeah,” Oliver’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked back down at the shelves they were stocking. “Well, I mean, I like you,” he said quickly, “and I’d really like to finish what we started up there. I think I owe you a few more orgasms.”

She smiled, “okay. But next time I’m returning the favor.”

Oliver lifted his hands, “I’m not going to object to that,” he repeated her words, biting his lip. “I wouldn’t say we’re completely clueless here as to what’s happening between us, Felicity.”

“Sex?”

He laughed, shaking his head as he tossed the empty box out of the way. “Sure. We can go with that for now.”

Felicity rolled her eyes at him before grabbing a few stacks of glasses. She quickly and carefully laid them out in rows, the rims of twenty shots touching by the time she was done. Then she winked at Oliver, turning and grabbing two bottles of tequila from the shelf.

Felicity flipped them in her hands, an easy enough trick, but the growing crowd didn’t need to know that. They cheered, and she smiled.

“All right!” Felicity shouted. Settling into her bartender attitude, she raised the bottles above her head, “who’s ready to party!?”


	11. I didn't know you were so sensitive.

**anonymous asked: For If I Tremble—“I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”**

_I can’t not write reunion sex on premiere day…_

_Please listen to Hold My Girl by George Ezra if you want all the feels :’)_

* * *

 

Waking up early was one of Felicity Smoak’s smallest tortures. Especially since arriving in Hope Springs. 

Mornings here are always cold. And without a husband to warm her toes up on, they’re simply sad. With a sigh, Felicity swings her legs out of the bed, hopping ungracefully across the cold wood floor until she reaches her dresser. There, she takes out her favorite fuzzy socks and pulls them on before finding a sweater.

She really missed being able to sleep anywhere, anytime. Now, once she’s up, there’s no falling back asleep. No point in even trying. Yawning, Felicity wraps her arms around herself and opens her bedroom door, shuffling down the hallway to the stairs. If she’s going to be up before the birds, then she’ll definitely need a pot of coffee to survive the day.

As she passes William’s room, her eyes instinctively glance inside, as they do every morning. He still has a few hours before he has to wake up for school, so she walks as quietly as she can. 

The stairs are a little creaky and William is a light sleeper just like Oliver, but she makes it to the kitchen without waking him up. Fumbling her hand against the wall, Felicity searches for the light switch.

“Felicity…”

The voice comes at the same moment she finds the switch, making her yelp and flick the light on at the same time. Her eyes dart to the corner of the kitchen the voice had come from. Oliver’s voice. 

He holds his hands up innocently as he pushes off the wall to approach her, but the rest of the room catches her attention. Diggle, Curtis, Rene, and Dinah are all sitting and leaning around her kitchen. “What the hell,” she gasps, glancing around at them wildly.

“The FBI got a hit on Diaz. They think he’s here.” Rene offers instead of a hello.

Felicity’s eyes widen, “in Hope Springs?”

John nods, standing from his chair, “Lyla pulled some strings and convinced Watson to let Oliver out so he can help. We’re here. Until we catch Diaz…” he clarifies, trailing off, not finishing the rest of that sentence. No need to be cruel.

“I see that,” Felicity breathes, “lurking in my dark house.”

“We didn’t want to wake you,” Curtis offers. She watches him for a moment. Protective custody meant she didn’t have contact with her friends. And she began to feel the tension of so many months apart. But nothing was more pressing than the giant, gorgeous, bruised and beaten man slowly inching closer.

Her eyes shift back to her husband, and he looks as serious and focused as the rest of the old team. Until his eyes wander down to her hand. Her left finger, to be exact. And then his expression breaks with the tiniest show of pain, noticing the lack of jewelry. 

Felicity clears her throat, looking back at the team. It doesn’t really seem like they have time to explain the importance of her hidden identity. Why Lyla had chosen a town that hardly ever turned on the news and lived in their own little happy world.

“We’ll need your help,” Dinah takes her turn to speak. “If he’s here, then he’s looking for you. We can use that.”

Rene chimes in next, “draw him out and take him out, we can all go home by the end of the day.”

Felicity narrows her eyes as John answers him, “we need to smarter than that. First, we need to find out as much information as we can. He doesn’t know we’re here. We need to keep Oliver’s presence especially under wraps. If Diaz knows he’s here, he’ll run and we’ll miss another shot at him.”

“You’ve been the one missing shots for five months,” Rene shrugs, “I won’t miss.”

They all pretty much roll their eyes at that, grumbling their disagreements that Rene waves off, and then Dinah turns to Oliver, crossing her arms as she looks up at him. “What do you think, Oliver? What’s the best play here?”

Since everyone else is staring at him, Felicity has no choice but to do the same. Reluctantly, she looks back at Oliver, and he lifts his chin, his eyes trained on her as if there aren’t four other people watching them. “I need to speak to Felicity.”

“Oliver,” John and Curtis both object, ready to argue that they don’t have time to waste.

“Just give us a minute,” Oliver exhales, his gaze falling back down to her hand. 

“Diaz could be making his move–”

“I said give us a  _minute_ ,” her husband stresses, his voice cracking in anger or sadness, she’s not really sure. But she reacts to the broken sound, stepping closer and running her hand down his arm. She twists her fingers in his and pulls him back towards the stairs.

“We’ll be right back,” she mumbles to the team. She knows Diaz is an issue they have to solve, but so is the crumbling man in front of her. And he’s no use if he’s spiraling. Oliver doesn’t speak as she leads him up the stairs, following behind her silently and willingly.

She tugs him into her bedroom and closes the door behind them. Oliver keeps her hand firmly in his, taking in the room. It hits her that he’s really there, standing in a space she never thought she’d see him. Felicity had thought of every harsh insult she’d wanted to throw at him in the last five months. And every quiet moment she fantasized about. But none of it compared to him being there. Seeing him in front of her and feeling his hand in hers made her mind go completely blank.

He squeezes her fingers, telling her it’s okay. And she stares up at him, “I took my ring off so we could blend in better,” she blurts, “not because I didn’t want to wear it or–or because I don’t love you.”

Biting his lip, Oliver steps closer. His free hand comes up to touch her hip. “I understand. And I hope you know that being away from you has only made me love you more. I’ve missed you like crazy.”

The intention to clear the air between them quickly slips from her mind, replaced by something else. Pushing up onto her toes, Felicity kisses him, moaning as soon as his stiff body relaxes, melting into her and kissing her back.

Her arms wrap around his neck, holding on tightly while his tongue slips into her mouth, tasting her. Both of Oliver’s arms wind around her waist, hauling her body against his, eliminating all the space between them. She gasps when he thrusts his hips slightly, letting her feel his hard length between them.

His breath is ragged, coming in short uneven gasps as his lips crush against hers, bruising and delicious and everything she needs. Her husband’s hands move to her shoulders, where he pushes the sweater off, dropping it to the floor. And he hums as his fingers graze her back, down to the waist of her shorts. Oliver dips his warm hands inside, cupping her ass and pulling her closer. Felicity lets out a sharp cry, which she knows is too loud because Oliver is kissing her again, swallowing it but not bothering to stop.

He pulls his hands up again, pushing the thin tank top she’d slept in up her body. Lifting her arms, Felicity lets him take it off. Oliver pauses, stopping her before she wraps her arms around him again. “I want to see you,” he growls, his hooded eyes opening to look down at her body. 

And she might have been self-conscious. If Oliver’s expression didn’t darken whenever he saw her naked. If he didn’t groan his appreciation and make her feel like some kind of goddess every time he touched her. She’s glad that  _that_ hadn’t changed at all. Her nipples are already pebbled from the cold air, but under Oliver’s gaze, they harden even more. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he grumbles, reaching to palm each breast in his hands. “So fucking gorgeous.” Oliver bends down to kiss the tops of her breasts, then he wraps his lips around her left nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh as he sucks.

“Oh, god,” she moans. He gives her other breast the same attention, rousing her further until she has to pull him back by his hair. Felicity whimpers, clawing at his back in a desperate need to be closer. And Oliver huffs as he picks her up, guiding her legs around his waist and turning them. He drops her down onto the unmade bed, climbing on top of her, his lips and body hot over hers. 

It’s warmth she never wanted to admit she’d lost.

Oliver kisses her neck, nipping at her gently as he settles between her legs. She’s reaching for his pants a moment later, and he helps her get them off. Felicity drags his face back to hers while Oliver kicks away the remaining clothes between them.

“Yes,” she keens, the ache for him to fill her reaching infuriating heights. But Oliver hesitates, lining himself up at her entrance. He slips the head of his erection between her folds, his eyes slamming shut as he feels how wet she is. He does it a few more times, making her hips buck off the bed each time his cock rubs against her clit. 

Taking his face between her hands, Felicity shares a breath with her husband, waiting until he opens his eyes to look into her eyes. And when he does, she smiles. He lets out a deep breath in response, “I can’t even explain how much I’ve missed you,” he gulps. Then he drives into her in one forceful thrust, and her walls throb around him at the sensation of being filled again.

Felicity groans loudly, her hips thrusting against his. Oliver closes his eyes, his face falling to her shoulder. He presses a few gentle kisses there, keeping still inside of her. “Oliver,” she chokes, unsure if he’s worried about taking it slow. “Move,” she begs, “fuck me, Oliver. I need you to fuck me.”

Her husband pulls out slowly, picking his head up to look down at her, and then pushes back in, his cock sliding easily in her essence. His third thrust sets her body on fire, the feeling of his impressive length deep inside. But she needs more. Felicity licks her lips as she grabs onto his hips to urge him. “Harder,” she pleads. “Please, please,” the word falls from her lips. 

When he looks down at her, his expression somewhat weary, she nods frantically. “Harder, baby,” she groans. 

Groaning back, Oliver gives her what she needs. He snaps his hips towards her, forcing her body up. He grunts as he finds a punishing and frantic pace, his cock slamming into her with wild force, just as fast and hard as she’d begged him for. And Felicity drops her head to her pillow, holding on to his shoulders tightly. 

She can feel her orgasm in a matter of seconds, “yes, Oliver. Oh god, oh god, oh god,” her babbling seems to break something deeper inside of him, and Oliver lets out a low growl as he lets go of any remaining control he had. 

He fucks her with mind-blowing power, and all she can feel is the pleasure of it. 

Felicity falls apart around him, pulling herself up so she can bury her face in the crook of his neck, muffling her screams as her thighs and arms shake, clinging to him.

Her whole body feels light, and as she latches onto Oliver, he pulls her up, moving to his knees and taking her with him. Felicity hugs him close as he hits a spot deep inside of her that sends tiny after waves of pleasure through her. Her walls pulse around him, “you feel so good,” her husband pants in her ear, plunging into her wet heat a few more time before he groans. His arms tighten around her as he comes, his cock emptying inside of her and his fingers digging into her back.

With a heavy breath, Oliver turns and falls back onto the bed, pulling her on top of him. Staring down at him, Felicity’s caught again by how fucking  _beautiful_ the man is, scars and all. And she knows that what just happened is one more wonderful memory she’d have to agonize over.

As Oliver catches his breath, Felicity nudges off of him, making them both groan when he slips out of her. She pulls the blanket along with her, suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed and unsure. 

Just thirty minutes ago, she’d expected to be drinking coffee alone and trying not to let her mind wander to the very man who had just made love to her. Passionately. Very,  _very_ passionately. The kind that she didn’t think was real until sex with Oliver Queen became a thing she did.

“Felicity?” Oliver sat up while she smoothed her hair behind her ears, holding the sheet in place to cover herself.

He frowns at that. And she can’t help but remember how much he used to love her walking around naked after sex. It had always made her feel some kind of special confidence, pride, knowing she could make Oliver scream her name in total abandon.

“We should get back downstairs,” she answers, picking up her clothes. 

“Woah, woah, woah,” Oliver’s eyebrows furrow. “Have I done something? Are you okay?”

She lets out a sharp breath, moving back to the bed and bringing him his clothes on the way. Felicity bends down to kiss him. “No, you haven’t done anything. I’m perfectly fine. Pretty damn satisfied, actually.”

“Okay…” he says slowly, “then can you come here? Let me hold you for a minute.”

Biting her lip, Felicity takes a step back. “Oliver, that was amazing. It always is. But you’re only here to do a job. We need to get back to that. We’ll be in here all day if I get back in that bed.”

“Not  _only,_ ” he shakes his head. Oliver stands up from the bed, and Felicity takes another step back. He narrows his eyes at her, “Felicity.”

“Oliver.” She cocks her head to the side. “I’m assuming once we catch Diaz, you go back.”

Her husband glances away, nodding once in acknowledgement. “Then let’s just take that really amazing sex as an unexpected blessing, and worry about the rest later.” Felicity can feel the tears springing to her eyes, so she turns toward the window. “You can use the bathroom first,” she offers, trying to keep her voice light.

Oliver sighs, sounding frustrated, but going inside and closing the door.

A few minutes later he comes back out, dressed and ready to get back to reality. But instead of moving to take her turn washing up, Felicity straightens her shoulders, keeping her eyes on the tree outside her window. 

She hears him come up behind her, pressing his chest against her back. Oliver brushes her hair over her shoulder, setting one hand on the window beside her and the other on her hip. He leans forward, kissing a trail up her spine. 

Felicity hums, her skin heating immediately. Oliver brings both of his hands to her hips, gently tugging the sheet down to her waist. And her skin is on  _fire_. His hands explore her body, gentle and healing, soft on every curve. Felicity closes her eyes, pressing her forehead against the cool glass as Oliver’s fingers skim over her breasts.

This was what he’d wanted.

Not hard and fast and desperate to hold onto something they were afraid to lose. His lips are slow on her back, leaving open-mouthed kisses everywhere he can reach. And despite her previous assertions, she doesn’t stop him.

When he runs his fingertips down her back, light as feathers, Felicity shivers. Her skin prickles with goosebumps despite how hot she feels, and she sucks in a sharp breath. 

Oliver chuckles against her shoulder. He kisses her one more time, both arms coming to circle her in warmth. Her safe place. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

She shivers noticeably again as his breath blows across her neck. “It’s been a while since anyone’s touched me like this,” she whispers back.

Oliver freezes, then lets out his breath with a low groan. He takes her hips again and spins her around, pulling her into a hug. Felicity holds him back, one hand combing through his hair while the other rubs his back.

As much as she’d needed him to lose control with her, Oliver needs her to take this moment. She has no idea what he’s going through in prison, but she imagines there’s nothing comforting or gentle about it. 

The thought makes her latch onto him tighter, her heart breaking a little bit more. After a moment, Oliver sighs, swaying with her as both of his arms flex, holding onto her like she’s a lifeline. “We should go help the others,” he mumbles, his warm hands smoothing over the soft skin of her back. It’s clear that he doesn’t want to go.

Knowing that Oliver just wants to stay and hold her makes her heart clench in her chest.

Felicity turns her head to kiss his cheek, running her lips from his ear to his mouth. She slowly moves Oliver back to the bed, pushing him onto his back and climbing on top of him. “They can handle it for a little while longer,” she mumbles back.

The second time, they don’t rush. She rides him slowly, rolling her hips as he watches with wide eyes, adoration on his face like she’d never seen before. And he touches every inch of her that he can while they move together. Felicity drags her nails down his chest as she spurs them into hot, tender bliss, both of them feeling, at least for an hour, like the world doesn’t exist beyond the walls of that bedroom.


	12. Suspenders

Some tumblr friends had a lovely conversation about season 7, Olicity, and suspenders. They were kind enough to nominate me to write the thing ;)

* * *

 

She was wearing that dress again. The red one she always pulled out around the holidays and that she knew drove him crazy.

Oliver paused in the doorway, second guessing his plans. For a moment, the benefit dinner somehow seemed more appealing. Watching her curves all night under the bright red fabric. The zippers that still sent him down a lovely path of reminiscing, remembering the night he’d brought her home from a holiday party and unzipped it with his teeth. 

But the moment was brief. What he had in mind would be much better…despite the tempting outfit she’d chosen. Felicity stood with her back to him, looking in the mirror as she put a pair of pearl earrings on. She glanced up at him and smiled, but her expression was a little sad. “You ready?” She asked, dropping her hands to her sides.

He let his eyes roam over her body one more time before she turned around, coming over to stand in front of him. “Yeah,” he nodded, looking down his nose at her face. Her hand moved over his chest, her fingers sliding beneath his jacket, toying with his suspenders. Oliver’s eyes fluttered shut, his heart starting to race at such a simple touch. But he’d been starved for her for months. 

Taking in a deep breath, Oliver focused on the warmth of Felicity’s hand as she pressed her palm against his chest, over his heart. 

“We should probably at least show up this time,” his wife sighed, and when Oliver opened his eyes, she was a step closer. “Our friends might forgive all the bailing, but this is the first time you’re facing the city since your arrest.” He held his breath, staring at her while she kept her gaze on her hand, letting her index finger wander between the buttons of his dress shirt. 

Inching towards her, Oliver dipped his head until his forehead touched hers. He wrapped his arms around Felicity, holding her close and listening to her groan at the contact. “The city can wait,” he whispered back. “I don’t owe them anything.  _You_ , on the other hand…” 

Oliver slid his hands down her back until he reached her ass, cupping her cheeks in each palm and giving her a gentle squeeze.

“Mm,” she hummed, a smile in her tone that he had to pull back to see. “You mean sex. You owe me sex? Lots and lots of it.  _Months_ worth of sex?”

Laughing softly, Oliver nodded. “I think we’ve done a pretty good job at making up for lost time.”

“It’s a good thing, too. When William finishes his semester and comes home next week, the whole ‘anywhere, anytime’ thing isn’t going to be an option.”

He grinned, remembering their morning; burnt pancakes and sex on the kitchen counter. “We got pretty creative before, I’m sure we’ll figure it out again.” To be fair, she’d come out of the bedroom wearing his shirt, adorable and sleepy, with a head of messy hair. “I’m not quite ready to give up on ‘anywhere, anytime’ just yet.”

Felicity snorted, running her hands up his arms, making him shiver. She felt it, her hands tightening as she took a deep breath in. Oliver watched her, analyzing the expression on her face. There were things she needed to say. Things he needed to hear. And vice versa. 

More than ever though, Oliver knew that there would be time. He’d learned his lesson, and nothing was ever going to stand between him and his family again. Not a prison, not a criminal, not even a fundraiser. 

William was content to finish his semester and come back home. Felicity couldn’t wait to get back to a normal routine. Oliver was excited to have his son and his wife under the same roof. All three of them were more than happy to get their life back on track. 

As he stared down at Felicity, her hand still grazing the muscles under his dress shirt, Oliver let out a soft groan. He recognized the look in her eyes. And he wanted nothing more than to turn her around and get started on appreciating how damn  _sexy_ she was. Every time he was inside of her, it felt like they were reconnecting, finding themselves in each other again. It was very,  _very_ hard to keep his hands off of her. 

“Oliver,” Felicity whispered his name, her fingers digging into his arms, her eyes hot on his as they darkened with desire. “We’re going to be late.”

Her voice was a low, sultry hum…that went straight to his pants.

It was the perfect time to make his counter proposal, to tell her what he’d planned, but he was momentarily speechless, afraid for the first time that she might say no. “We can be late,” Oliver breathed back, his eyes falling to her red lips. He was suddenly very focused on ruining that makeup. 

His wife stepped closer until her body was pressed against his, her fingers sliding under his clothes again, taking the time to appreciate the black suspenders he knew she loved. Felicity wrapped her hands around the straps, gently tugging him down so she could kiss him.

When her lips met his, he instinctively sucked her lower lip into his mouth, letting out a groan of pleasure. Oliver didn’t hesitate, ignoring the bed and backing her up against the door of the closet. Felicity moaned when her back landed against the wood, pinned between him and the door. But she didn’t seem to mind, lifting her leg and hooking it around his waist.

Oliver slipped his hand between them, squeezing her thigh as she opened her mouth for him. He quickly worked his hand beneath her dress while she clawed at his back, welcoming his tongue into her mouth with a needy moan. Felicity thrusted her hips towards him, seeking friction when his fingers grazed her clit over the thong she wore. “Mm,” he hummed in satisfaction. “You’re wet for me already,” he droned, letting himself get distracted in the moment. The rest could wait. 

“Touch me,” his wife pleaded, writhing into his hand as he cupped her sex. Oliver pulled back to look at her face, pressing his palm harder against her, flexing his fingers. Felicity licked her lips, her eyes falling shut again. But just when he was sure that she could find her release right there, grinding down as she pleased, Oliver pulled his hand back. His wife frowned, her eyes slowly opening to glare up at him.

He raised his eyebrows, reveling as he was reminded again just how well he knew her, every inch of her body and every piece of her heart. She could see something in his eyes that made her snap her lips shut, biting back whatever sassy complaint she had in mind. Instead, she stared up at him, and Oliver couldn’t help but love the attention. The focus in her gaze. The trust.

Slowly, he bent down until his lips brushed against hers, and he dragged his fingers up the backs of her thighs, from her knees to the curve of her ass, digging in gently. Felicity whimpered, her breath blowing against his lips as her hands gripped his suspenders again, holding him in place tightly. Then he leaned back, taking her ass in both hands and turning her towards the bed. Felicity pulled him along with her, and he effortlessly tossed her onto the bed, falling on top of her.

“Yes,” she huffed, wrapping her legs around his waist, caging him in. Oliver picked her up, hauling her up the bed until her head was on the pillows. Looking down at her face, he smiled before kissing her, parting his lips and running his tongue across her bottom lip. Her fingers were impatient, rushing to get his jacket off, which he tried to help with. But he stopped her when she reached for his pants, her body wiggling beneath him.

Oliver sat up on his knees, guiding her to lie back as he took her in, her legs resting over his thighs and a gorgeous view of her soaked panties in front of him. He gazed down at her smooth skin against the bright red dress, appreciating every curve of her body and hair on her head with fresh admiration.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know what he had before. Because he definitely did. His wife was perfect. But the separation seemed to cause a new level of obsession, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to go another day without his hands on her again. 

With that thought, Oliver slowly ran his hands up her legs, watching as she shivered. He could feel how warm his own skin was, heating hers when he pressed his fingers into her thighs. He pushed his hands under her dress, lifting her off the bed so he could hike the fabric up around her stomach.

Felicity’s lids were heavy as she looked at him. Meeting her gaze, he could see that she understood, that she’d accept him like this for as long as necessary; insatiable for her. But it wasn’t just a desire to be inside of her, to fill her and feel her warm, wet walls pulling him in deeper and deeper. It wasn’t just about hearing her cry out as she pulsed around him. 

It was a compulsive desire he had to make Felicity come. He’d spent months dreaming about it. Needing to watch her lose control, to know that her relaxed body, her satisfied smile, the moans echoing off the walls like music, were all for him. Maybe it had something to do with leftover guilt he still held on to, but Oliver didn’t care. 

He needed the slow, gentle build of her orgasms just as much as he sometimes needed to fuck her hard and wild.

Leaning in, Oliver sighed, proud and grateful that Felicity not only accepted, but enjoyed, whichever sense of control he needed to cling to. He kissed the patch of skin showing on her stomach, pushing her dress up to her ribs. Felicity’s fingers fell to his hair, burrowing into a tight grip while her breath grew shallow.

Still, he took his time. Kissing and sucking, he made a trail of light marks from her belly to her neck. As he hovered over her, Oliver opened his eyes. Her cheeks were red with arousal, her fists so tight in his hair that it hurt, but he was far from complaining. 

Slowly, her eyes opened. Oliver kept his gaze on her as he reached between them, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down just enough to let his cock spring free. “Yes, Oliver, yes,” Felicity moaned. He pressed his forehead against hers, squeezing his eyes shut and fighting the part of him that wanted to rip her underwear off and bury himself deep inside.

Instead he moved slowly, rubbing himself against her soaked panties, feeling her folds beneath the thin lace. He teased her clit with his length, feeling her juices soaking him as he ground down in harsh thrusts that drove them both crazy. Their moans and grunts filled the room, the friction was maddening, but not quite enough.

Without warning, Oliver heaved off of her. “Hey,” she inhaled sharply, her hands flying to his suspenders to keep his body over hers. His need was too far gone, his rock hard erection making him lose control. Growling, Oliver placed his hands over Felicity’s and gently unclasped her fingers from the straps.

Then he slid back on the bed, lowering his face to her sex. He took in a breath, pressing a kiss over her covered folds. Dumbstruck again, Oliver wondered how he’d survived so long without this. How he’d gone all those months without tasting her. Without even  _seeing her face_  beyond that photograph.

His eyes snapped up to look at Felicity and he was pleased to find her already focused on him. Oliver blinked, meeting her gaze with his face between her legs. He knew that the sight must be doing something for her because she groaned, biting her lip and jerking her hips from the bed, her sex bumping against his chin.

Smiling, Oliver pressed another kiss to her center, letting his tongue slip out to taste. Felicity mewled, rocking up into his mouth, and he hummed, settling in and crossing his hands over her stomach to keep her still. The vibration of his voice had her sighing, her thighs shaking on either side of his face. 

He pulled her panties aside, giving himself access to her glistening sex. And then he opened his mouth, wrapping his lips around her swollen clit and sucking hard. Felicity cried out, bucking off the bed for a moment before Oliver growled and slammed her back down, sending another shot of pleasure through her with a breathy little laugh on her lips. “Don’t stop,” she panted, her eyes closing and her head tipping back. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” the words fell from her mouth, as if he would ever dream of it. Felicity’s fingers gripped his hair again, her nails scraping against his head, her thighs clenching around his face.

Oliver could feel her body tensing, her feet digging into his back, listening to the tell-tale pitch in her voice. “Oliver! Yes! Oh my god.” And he slipped his tongue inside of her, feeling her walls pulse around him as he brought his thumb to her clit, rubbing in small, quick circles until she was screaming his name.

He only stopped when her body relaxed, when she came back down onto the bed and whimpered, reaching for him to ease up. Then he pressed a final kiss against her sensitive sex, raising his head to look at her. He smiled, seeing that she was tension-free and satisfied. Felicity groaned when he wiped his chin, licking his lips just to taste her again. She reaching for his shoulders and pulled him up her body by his suspenders. He settled his weight over her, resting his elbows on either side of her head and smoothing her hair back against the pillow. “Hi.”

Felicity gave him a blissful smile, her eyes closing with a sigh. Feeling his erection on her thigh, Felicity quirked an eyebrow. She kept her eyes closed, taking her time as she undid the buttons of his shirt, undressing him with ease. “We’re going to be  _very_ late,” she hummed, not seeming to mind at all. 

Oliver pursed his lips, kicking his pants off the bed and settling between her legs again. “Honey, um…” After a moment, Felicity opened her eyes, looking up at him suspiciously. “I have to ask you something.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Her voice was tense, and he could feel her stiffening beneath him. Oliver rotated his hips as he shook his head.

“Nothing’s wrong. I was just…I’m kind of hoping you wouldn’t mind skipping the event tonight.”

Widening her legs and wrapping them around his waist, Felicity narrowed her eyes playfully at him. “I promised Dinah and John we’d be there…I think they’re going to stop believing our excuses.”

He breathed out a laugh, cradled between her legs and not sure if he really wanted to get up. Giving a quick glance at the clock, he relaxed a bit, realizing that they still had a couple hours. Of course, she’d need to pack. But as long as the airport wasn’t insane then they should have plenty of time…

“I’m pretty sure they know that you haven’t been sick ever since we got back from Cambridge, Felicity.”

“Oh no,” she teased, smoothing her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, “you mean they know we’ve barely put clothes on all week?”

Shaking his head, Oliver grinned back. “I’m sure Dig is trying not to think about it. But I actually uh–” he bit his lip, shifting his weight off of her. Felicity objected, leaning up to follow when he rolled to his side of the bed. “I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean that we should skip the benefit dinner…to do  _that_.”

Nerves coursed through him and his hand was a little shaky as he reached into the nightstand on his side. Silently, Oliver pulled out the two slips of paper he’d purchased that afternoon and set them on the bed between him and his wife. Felicity frowned in confusion, reading the words on the tickets in front of her. Of course, it only took her a few seconds to realize what they were and what they meant. But Oliver leaned back, resting his head on his hand and watching the brilliant wheels turning in her head until it clicked. And then her eyes snapped up to his.

“Aruba?” She asked simply.

Oliver grinned, “it’s less than a week…but I just thought that maybe we deserve it. Before we pick William up and get back to normal.”

“Our honeymoon?” Felicity raised her eyebrows, and he could already see the bright smile pulling at her lips, her excitement growing. It warmed him, and made him kick himself for ever thinking she’d say no. Felicity had been wanting this since their wedding, and he should have dropped everything to give it to her sooner.

“Our flight’s in…” he looked at the clock again, “two hours and thirty seven minutes. All we need to do is pack you a bag.”

Blinking, Felicity’s eyes shifted from him to the tickets, and then she was shoving them aside and hurling herself on top of him.

Oliver huffed as he caught her, falling back while Felicity peppered kisses all over his cheek and lips. She pulled back just to beam down at him, adjusting her legs so she was straddling him.

His wife circled her hips, pushing her chest against him and locking her fingers with his. “There’s one more thing we need to do before packing,” she whispered, smiling against his lips. 

Oliver lifted his head to kiss her, groaning as she sank down onto him, sliding home.


	13. We're not just friends and you fucking know it.

No amount of hot water was washing away the feeling of The Count’s fingers in her hair, playing with her ponytail while they waited for Oliver to show up.

She still felt the same chill just thinking about it. The fact that the guy was unsuccessful at injecting her with Vertigo didn’t provide much comfort. Not after the way he’d fallen out of that window, arrows buried in his chest.

Good riddance. 

It was still creepy though. And she really didn’t want to be alone, but she wasn’t about to call John, or god forbid Oliver, to come sit with her.  _No,_  she thought as she stepped out of the shower and began drying off. She was strong and perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

With her hair up in a towel and her warmest pajama pants on for comfort, Felicity made her way into the kitchen, set on making herself drink some of that nasty herbal tea her mom had bought for her. It tasted like a wet twig, but it should help settle her nerves. Some  melatonin and twig tea, and she should be well on her way to sleep. No point in keeping herself up all night replaying what happened with The Count. With Oliver. All those thoughts and pesky emotions would still be there in the morning.

But he’d saved her.

Of course he had. She didn’t doubt that he would.

She saw Oliver snap, saw the violence in his eyes. And she’d pleaded for him not to take another life. Not for her. In that moment, she would’ve rather sacrificed herself than let him lose another piece of his soul.

And...yeah, that was a new emotion to deal with. One she was too tired to face.

The teapot on the stove and her favorite mug ready, Felicity turned towards her door, checking the lock for the eighth time since Diggle dropped her off. Satisfied that it was good and locked, Felicity nodded. 

Just as she stepped towards the bathroom in search of her phone, there was a knock.

Felicity froze, knowing that The Count was dead, that the one who had tried to hurt her was incapable of coming back. She was safe. But that didn’t do anything to ease the fear that rose in her throat. “John?” She squeaked.

“No,” a voice answered through the wood. “Uh, it’s me.” She recognized Oliver’s low, soft-spoken tone on the other side of the door. Stepping closer, Felicity hesitated in front of the door, hearing Oliver let out a deep breath. “I’m sure I’m the last person you want to see right now. But John mentioned that you were feeling a little–” he paused. Felicity knew he probably wanted to say some variation of  _scared_. But he didn’t. “Off,” Oliver finished, and she thought she heard the sound of his head thumping against the door. “Felicity,” he sighed her name. “Can I please come in?”

He’d never come to her like this. She’d heard him yell, heard him growl, threaten, and warn. And she had heard the soft side of him; gentle laughs and whispered assurances. She’d heard a lot of that low, sexy hum tonight. He’d been all quiet comfort and protective eyes. Yet, she hadn’t heard him like this before. “Felicity...please.”

Desperate and confused.

His voice was pleading, and Felicity reached for the door instantly, swinging it open. Oliver inhaled sharply, taking a step back as his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Hi.”

“Hey,” she answered, glancing down at the brown paper bag in his hand. And the bottle of wine. She could smell the Chinese food, which she assumed was from her favorite takeout place, by the delicious scents filling her nose. “Dinner from Orchid and alcohol. You really do know all my weaknesses.”

Oliver smiled, letting out a slight huff.  _Nervous?_  “I know how to work through your stubbornness, that’s all.”

She bit her lip, opening the door wider for him to come in. “Well, it’s working.”

“Good,” he nodded, turning to look at her as she closed and locked the door behind him. “How are you?”

“Fine,” she shrugged, heading for the kitchen area. 

He followed, setting the food and wine on her counter. She scrunched her nose up at the tea, pouring it down the sink and happily pulling out two wine glasses. Felicity set them on the counter while Oliver unpacked the takeout. Picking up the bottle, she raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t this–”

“The wine I promised you a long time ago?” Oliver laughed under his breath, glancing over at her. “Yeah,” he answered. 

“He finally remembers,” she teased.

They’d spent plenty of time alone. Down in the bunker. At Queen Consolidated. Yet there was still a wall between them. Felicity hoped that it was slowly being taken down, but he was pendulum, and she was never quite sure what she’d get each day. Which way he’d be swinging. Sometimes it was the sweet, caring friend. Other times it was the growling, frustrated vigilante. She considered Oliver one of her best friends, trusted him with her life. But sometimes she had a hard time navigating his moods.

He always seemed to be there when it mattered. Like earlier that night. Showing up to save her. And in a different way, showing up with food, wine, and his company.

“Oliver,” Felicity said, running her finger along the lip of her glass. “I’m still sorry you had to kill him.”

“Hey,” Oliver gave his head a tiny shake. “I told you...”

“I know,” she sighed, “no choice to make. But I’m still sorry.”

“Me too,” he said quietly, his smile fading a bit.

Sucking in a deep breath, Felicity sipped the wine, wondering if it tasted so good because of the night they’d had, or because of the man who had bought it for her. “How did things go with your mom?” She asked, watching Oliver as he focused on fixing them each a plate.

They talked as he carried them over to the couch, waiting until she sat before he sunk down beside her. He seemed to consciously put some space between them. Close enough that they could speak in hushed voices, but not so close that he might accidentally touch her. 

He told her about his mom’s mixed emotions after the trial, how Thea was handling all of it, and his own process of making sense of it. And she listened intently, thankful for his openness as much as she appreciated the distraction. It was moments like this when she could easily understand why she was falling in love with him. Because she was. She couldn’t deny it. Not to herself, and not after tonight.

This was the side of him that hardly anyone got to see. The friend, the strong and steady rock in her life she’d come to know so well. It didn’t happen very often, but sometimes he let her in. He let her see his broken pieces, the parts of him that were raw, but that she hoped were healing. And as long as he kept doing it, she would keep showing him that he had no reason to hide from her.

After an hour or so, with full stomachs and an almost empty bottle of wine, Oliver stood up. Felicity’s eyes tracked him across her townhouse; the confident and beautiful way he moved in her space. Like he was comfortable, like he owned it. 

_Like he belonged there._

_Where did that come from?_

That kind of thinking was what usually got her in trouble. Oliver wasn’t hers. There wasn't any part of him that belonged to her, or in her home. Yet, as if his actions were contradicting her thoughts, Oliver placed the dishes in the sink and rolled up his sleeves.

Felicity bit her lip as she watched him, sitting on her couch with a blanket in her lap and a glass of wine in her hand, while Oliver washed the dishes and placed them on the rack to dry.

It felt domestic.

 _Unfair_.

When he was done, he turned back to her with a smile, drying his hands and tossing the towel on the counter just as she usually did. He came back to the couch, hovering above her for a moment. Felicity kept her mouth shut, tensing a bit while she waited for him to say goodnight, and hating herself for not wanting him to.

“Felicity,” he bent down so his face was level with hers. “You know I’m always here for you, right? You can always call me. I promise, I'll be there every time.”

She stared into his eyes, nodding once as his eyes softened. And it felt an awful lot like the gentle look in his eyes was just for  _her_ lately.

Oliver Queen wasn’t the most expressive man, to say the least. When it came to his physical affection, he strictly kept to her shoulder or hands. His fingers never strayed farther than that, always a supportive squeeze of her fingers or a calming hand on her shoulder. So it surprised her when he lifted his hand and ran his thumb over her cheek.

Seconds later, it was gone.

He offered her a smile.

For some strange reason, the gesture made her angry. She found so much comfort in him, so much safety. They were _friends_. Yet she knew it wouldn’t always be enough. She’d always want more. His gentle touch made it frustratingly clear. How long could she wait? How long could she grin and bear it while he screwed other women and she remained just the friend?

His finger left a trail of heat over her skin, and she wanted  _so much more._

Felicity wasn’t sure whether to be angry at him for that, or at herself.

“How’s Isabel?” She bit the question out unexpectedly, unable to mask the hatred. There was jealousy there, too. Even to her own ears.

Wine wasn’t helping.

Oliver simply raised an eyebrow, his eyes never leaving hers. “We talked about this,” he answered coldly, his guards going up. His voice contained an edge that he refused let her see on his face.

Tipping her glass back, Felicity finished her wine. Then she leaned forward to set it on the table. Oliver stiffened as she brushed against him, but he didn’t move away.

Interesting.

“I know,” she mumbled quietly before pulling back to see his face. “I’m just asking. As a friend. What happens in Russia doesn’t always stay in Russia.”

“It meant  _nothing_ , Felicity.”

Felicity pursed her lips, “that wasn’t my question, Oliver.”

“You want to know if I’ve slept with her again?” He asked boldly.

If Felicity wasn’t a little tipsy, she probably would have laughed off that question and avoided it like hell, not wanting an answer. But after the Count, and Russia, and  _everything..._ she just shrugged. 

“No,” Oliver shook his head, his jaw clenching. “Not that it’s really any of your business, but no. I haven’t touched her.”

There was a long silence between them. And Felicity was fascinated to watch the fire in his eyes. She somehow knew it wasn’t directed at her. She might even detect a hint of embarrassment. He regretted what happened in Russia. 

“Gorgeous, tall brunettes,” Felicity mused, staring as Oliver stiffened. “Has that always been your type?”

She was genuinely curious. It was a question she’d always wondered but never had the guts to ask...for obvious reasons. She was the opposite of the type of women he seemed attracted to.

Anger flashed behind his eyes again, and she wasn’t really sure what she was doing. Why she was provoking him like this when he’d come here to be a good friend. When he’d been nothing but kind to her. When he’d  _saved_ her. He didn’t deserve to be taunted.

All he did was stare at her. 

And she had her answer. Tall, brown-haired, exotic, classy model goddesses. That was what Oliver Queen liked. And she regretted asking. She regretted allowing herself to hope that he might see  _her_ like that. She was not some mysterious, exciting, enticing adventure that a man like him craved.

Felicity’s eyes quickly welled with alcohol-induced, boiling point, embarrassed tears. He didn’t even speak, yet she felt rejected.

“I know I’m not the most...I mean, I know I don’t look like a model fresh off the runway, but–” She inhaled sharply, cutting herself off as she gulped. But  _what_? What was she going to do, ask him to _try_ to see her as more than the babbling, bookish IT girl? She needed to calm down. Suck those tears back in and walk away from this conversation with as little damage as possible. 

Oliver stared at her, his hands clenching into fists from where he was crouched beside her. His eyes narrowed. “Felicity,” he seethed, “what the hell are you talking about?”

Embarrassed further by the anger she saw on his face, Felicity looked down at her hands, playing with her fingers in her lap. “Nothing,” she muttered quietly, “it’s nothing, forget it.”

“This doesn’t seem like nothing,” he immediately retorted, his gaze searing into her cheek. She could feel him fuming, trying to catch her eye. But she really, truly, honestly, couldn’t even look at him. How did she think a conversation like that would go, with Oliver Queen? She hadn’t been thinking. That was the problem.

“Just drop it...please?” Felicity could feel the sting of tears hit her eyes again, and she bit her lip to keep them in. “I’m going to take a shower and go to bed,” she tried to sound casual, forcing a smile that didn’t feel believable. Her hair was still wet from the shower she'd taken an hour ago, but she was hoping he'd let her off the hook. Let her retreat, let her hide. Scrub the last ten minutes from his memory and continue on tomorrow like it never happened. “I’ll see you later, okay?” When she moved to stand, he rose with her, his eyes still burning onto her face with an intense anger. “Thank you for dinner.”

Oliver didn’t say a word, staring as she brushed by him, her eyes on the floor while she tried not to full-out  _sprint_ for the bathroom.

As soon as the door was closed behind her, Felicity rested her back against it and shut her eyes. She didn’t stop the tears this time, letting them fall for a couple of silent minutes, giving Oliver time to escape in peace.

Sighing, she pulled herself back to her feet, smoothing her hands over her pajama pants. Felicity grabbed some tissues and looked in the mirror, hoping to clean up the mess of tears she knew were on her face. But when she looked at her reflection again, it made her whimper. Her eyes were red and puffy, her skin pale, and her hair messy. Choking on a sob, Felicity covered her mouth, like she could keep the dam from breaking if she kept it quiet.

A soft knock on the door made her freeze, her head snapping to the handle. “Felicity?” She heard his voice on the other side.

Oh no.

 _No_.

As if the night couldn’t get any worse, Oliver had definitely heard her crying. Still, she didn’t dare speak, wondering if he’d just leave if she didn’t answer. Excuses could be made tomorrow. There was wine involved. Near deaths and heroic swooping. She could figure it out in the morning, but in that moment, she felt vulnerable. Nothing to hide behind. No humor, quick wit, or red lips.

Felicity closed her eyes and let out a deep breath, hoping he’d leave as much as she wished he’d stay.

Instead, the doorknob turned, the door slowly creaked open, and then Oliver was in front of her. His back stiff, he quickly shoved his hands in his pockets once the barrier between them was gone. He was clearly uncomfortable with pushing this, but he did it anyway. Clearing his throat, Oliver met her eyes, and his wide, puppy-dog expression instantly hardened. His eyes narrowing at her tears. At her pathetic wallowing. “What the  _fuck_ , Felicity?”

She pinched her lips at his irritated tone, her eyes welling with more tears. “I’m just drunk,” she tried weakly. “Oliver, please go home.”

His lip curled a bit, disgust and displeasure in his eyes. And he shook his head. With his hands still in his pockets, he entered the bathroom, slinking towards her until he was toe to toe. So close she had to tilt her head to look up at him. 

Oh, and he looked angry.

“Do you seriously think that I don’t find you beautiful, Felicity?” His tone suggested that the idea was crazy. He pulled a hand from his pocket, lifting it to graze his fingers over her cheek. "Is that what these tears are for? Over _me_?"

Gaping, Felicity lifted one shoulder, her eyes wide as she watched his gaze drop to the movement. Letting out a sharp breath, Oliver's hand slid to her bare shoulder.

He’d touched her there countless times. In comfort. To ground her. To calm her down. Get her attention. But this was different. His fingers took their time, light as feathers on her skin. Like he was exploring. A caress. It sent a shiver down her spine. His eyebrows pushed together as he noticed her goosebumps.

“I’m angry, Felicity,” he grumbled, his voice like gravel, his attention focused on his fingers as he traced the skin of her shoulder. “I am  _furious_ that you could ever think such a thing...that I could make you feel that way.”

“It’s not your fault,” she squeaked, ready and willing to defend him, as she always was. But his eyes snapped to hers, blazing, telling her not to.

He held her captive in that look, “do you want to know why?” Oliver whispered.

She continued to stare, half of her wondering if she should be pinching herself to wake up. But the man in front of her was very real; his eyes were the perfect shade of blue, his scent just right, and his hands calloused where he caressed her. Very. Real.

“Do you want me to tell you why I find you so fucking gorgeous, Felicity?” Her eyes widened, but he remained calm. His fingers trailed from her shoulder to her hair, tucking it behind her ear. Then he tapped his index finger to her temple. “Of course, your mind is a beautiful paradox to me. Your humor, your wit, your cleverness.” That hand of his traveled south, gliding down her throat until he could place a steady palm over her heart. 

“There’s also this,” he continued, his voice low. Her nipples hardened, his hand so close to touching her breasts. She wanted him to scrape his fingers across them. 

“Your compassion, your trust, your belief in me. It’s staggering,” Oliver cocked his head to the side. “Did you know that?” She swallowed, and he hummed. “I never really know what’s going to come out of your mouth,” trailing his own words, Oliver’s eyes fell to her lips, his thumb catching the corner of her bottom one. 

“Neither do I, most of the time,” she rushed out over his fingers.

Oliver huffed out a laugh, his smile making her heart race. “Felicity, I could tell you about a dozen fantasies I’ve had involving your mouth.”

She squeaked in surprise again, her senses on overdrive. And he looked smug, like he knew exactly what he was doing. “Why are you telling me this?” She breathed.

Oliver sighed, “honestly...because I’m _mad_ , Felicity. I’m pissed at myself for not letting you know sooner. And I'm pissed because you're the last person I ever want to see crying...especially over something I've done to make you feel bad.”

“It’s not your job to make me feel beautiful, Oliver,” she huffed, glancing away as he swiped the moisture from her cheeks.

“Hmm,” he hummed, slowly taking her face between his hands, encouraging her to look up as he stepped closer. “Right now...it is,” he got so close that she could feel his breath on her lips.

Silently, he rubbed his nose against hers, and Felicity froze. 

“Tonight...it is,” Oliver’s voice was a low grumble in his chest that made her shiver. 

He didn’t kiss her. Instead, he spun her around, turning her into the bathroom counter and stepping behind her.

Felicity gasped, her eyes closing involuntarily. And Oliver continued to touch her, exploring her body with his hands. He pushed her hair aside, feeling her back.

Then gently moved his fingers under the tank-top she wore. He grazed every inch of her that he could reach, saving her breasts for last. And when he finally tweaked her nipples, she cried out.

Desperately, she ripped her shirt off, feeling free after tossing the restricting fabric aside.

Oliver growled, his eyes on her breasts through the mirror, and pulled her back so her head rested on his shoulder. Felicity watched their reflection, arching her back into his hands as he palmed both of her breasts, learning them. “Fuck, Felicity,” he murmured in her ear.

Slowly, she focused on him as his arousal grew, igniting in his eyes, his hands getting rougher.

And then she looked at herself. Exhausted with puffy eyes and blotchy skin was really not how she imagined doing this. Looking like a mess. Not ever, but  _definitely_ not with Oliver. 

“Hey,” his voice distracted her, and she glanced at him in the mirror. He smiled, leaning in and closing his eyes. Silently, Oliver pressed wet, opened-mouthed kisses from her collarbone to her cheek. And she stared, mesmerized at the sight.

His tongue slipped out to taste her skin. He nipped and sucked at her soft spots, making her moan. And the whole time, she kept her eyes on him, overwhelmed with the sensation his mouth on her shoulder brought, knowing it was Oliver, and getting to watch him do it.

Gently, his hands slid from her hips, his warm fingers trailing up her stomach and to her breasts. He cupped each one, giving her a low hum, his grip tightening.

Felicity watched as her nipples pebbled between his fingers, feeling him step closer, groaning as he ground his hips into her ass. She glanced up from his hands, only to meet his eyes in the reflection again. His smile was safe, comfortable, and that perfect blend of sweet and sexy that turned her into putty. 

Yet, his eyes were focused on her face. And she could see something in them that she’d only ever caught glimpses of. Something he kept carefully hidden from her every other day. But tonight, he let her see it. Vulnerable and real. His eyes burned with desire. _For her._

That one look made her feel more wanted than she could ever remember. Oliver stood still, his hands still on her breasts, and let her see it, let her know that he wanted her. Which...was a really big deal.

When he took another step closer, pressing himself against her back and keeping his eyes locked with hers, Felicity’s mouth dropped open. Her hips instinctively grinding against him as she felt his erection against her ass. And Oliver pushed her further into the counter with his hips, growling out her name.

Quickly, she spun to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck and looking up at his face. He stared down his nose at her, one hand sliding from her neck to the waist of her pants, following her spine. She shivered, pushing up on her toes and pulling him closer at the same time.

Oliver hesitated with his lips brushing against hers. Just one moment. One moment that hung between them, full of heavy breaths, thick anticipation, and brazen desire. Then he kissed her, and despite the tension of sexual nature, he took his time.

It was a sweet kiss. A first kiss. A  _good_ kiss.

One where he held her face, sucking her bottom lip between his own and sending a swarm of butterflies free inside her belly. 

He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers while they caught their breaths. “Wow,” Oliver panted, sounding just as affected and breathless as she felt.

It was probably the best first kiss of her life. And she could only imagine the list of  _firsts_ she and Oliver could share that would top everything she’d ever done before him.

“You want to make a list?” He asked.

Felicity clamped her lips shut, squeezing her eyes just as tight. But he laughed softly, peppering kisses along her nose and cheeks. He was teasing her, just as he’d always done. Even after he’d just kissed the hell out of her. “Oliver,” she refused to open her eyes. “Promise that no matter what happens next...whatever this is and whatever it means,” Felicity huffed, “we won’t let it change  _us_.”

Since her eyes were closed, Oliver leaned in until his nose touched hers, and then he nodded in agreement. “Of course, Felicity.”

“Good,” she let out a breath of relief. “And we’ll still be friends?”

“Yes,” he chuckled, “would you please open your eyes?” She did, peeking a hesitant glance at him. He rolled his eyes, “this won’t change anything, Felicity. I am always going to care about you.” She smiled, and he returned it, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Okay?”

“Okay,” she nodded.

Oliver instantly hauled her against his chest, reminding her how very naked she was when he nipples rubbed against his firm chest, hardening. He kissed her again, not nearly as gentle this time. His tongue separated her lips, giving himself entrance. Felicity moaned, opening wider, letting him devour her.

Her lips were swollen, her head light, and her panties soaked. But Oliver didn’t let up, his mouth exploring hers with patience, his hands tightening, gripping her ass when she nipped at his bottom lip, but he made no move to do more. After a while, she growled in frustration, reaching for the button of his jeans.

“Mm,” he groaned, smiling and keeping his mouth on hers. His hands gently stopped her, taking her wrists. 

She pouted, an erotic confidence washing over her. Felicity pulled one hand out of his grip, cupping his jeans and feeling how badly he wanted her, both in the air and in the evidence of his rock hard cock in her hand. “I thought you had a fantasy or two you might want to try...involving my mouth?”

Oliver’s eyes flew open, arousal sparking in his gaze. “Not tonight,” he grumbled, his voice thick. And then he spun her around, back to the mirror, and she yelped in surprise, feeling the cool counter against her stomach again.

“Tonight,” Oliver pressed against her, his hands coming to rest on either side of her. He met her eyes in the mirror again, “tonight, I want you to watch.”

Her eyes widened as he moved his hands, reaching for her waist and gripping her pajama pants for a moment. Then he let one hand wander up her stomach and over her breast, the other staying on her hip. His fingers came to her chin, his chest heating against her back. And he leaned down to kiss her cheek while she watched. “Look, Felicity," he whispered in her ear.

She licked her lips, glancing up at her own face. The red and blotchy mess she’d seen earlier looked different now, her skin flushed and pretty. Her hair was still a mess, but she liked the way his fingers had left it. Her eyes were wide, her pupils blown with arousal, and there was a beautiful man kissing her neck.

Despite herself, she thought they looked good together.

For the first time, she didn’t feel like the insecure, nerdy girl who had a crush on her older, much sexier 'boss.' Felicity smiled, letting out a breathy laugh. Oliver picked his head up from her neck at the sound, looking at her expression. Her drowsy, titillated grin. He didn’t say a word, staring at her face while the warm hand on her hip slid under the waist of her pants.

He kept his eyes on her until he reached her center, his hand buried in those silly pajama pants. Felicity clenched her jaw as Oliver’s fingers swirled between her folds, making her gasp. Her body was so wound up, he barely had to touch her. “God, you’re so wet,” he groaned, clenching his jaw.

She whimpered, rotating her hips into his hand, rubbing herself against his fingers. 

He growled, keeping his eyes on hers, and easily slid one finger inside. She cried out, immediately clenching her walls around it, and he cursed under his breath. Then he slid two fingers inside of her, pumping them once, curling them, and pumping them again, repeating it over and over while she felt her orgasm building, her fingers gripping the counter, never taking her eyes off his as the bathroom filled with their labored breaths. 

Just as she began to fall, lulled into a languid, delicious orgasm, he flicked his thumb against her clit, rubbing harsh circles and quickening the pace of his fingers pushing inside of her. The gentle orgasm took off, her hips thrusting wildly as she rocked into his hand. "Yes, yes, yes...Oliver," she sighed, squeezing her eyes shut.

Oliver held her against his chest, a low rumble against her back and in her ear where he kissed her again and again.

As she came down, she opened her eyes, meeting Oliver’s gaze in the mirror just as she’d left it before she’d free-fallen into one of the best orgasms of her life. _Add that to the list._

He grinned, satisfied with himself. “Felicity,” Oliver shook his head, “that was the most gorgeous fucking thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching.” He stared at her for a moment, his eyes as wide as hers, and she swallowed. Oliver licked his lips, his hand still cupping her sex, he flexed his fingers. 

A long moment passed between them, one where she caught her breath and he stared at her with excited eyes and a boyish smirk. “Let’s do it again," he finally groaned.

And so began a month-long game of teasing and pleasing.

The next time it happened, two days later in the bunker, Oliver had let her explore his body. Touching every muscle and scar she wanted, taking him into her mouth, tasting him.

They’d enjoyed weeks of discovering each other’s ticklish spots, the spots to kiss if they really wanted to get the other turned on quickly, and it didn't take them long to realize just how good they were together.

But nearly a month later, things changed. They were back at her apartment, in her bed, and they’d found themselves so close to another cliff, another line to cross.

Her legs were spread, Oliver nestled between them, each of them wide eyed as the head of his cock slid through her folds. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He’d mumbled, knowing that Felicity was using sex as a barrier. All of the other things they’d done, in her mind, weren’t as serious. She could convince herself that it’d just been fun. Easy.

Felicity sighed, cupping his face between her hands. She smiled, her expression looking a little bit scared. He dropped his forehead to hers, rubbing her nose with his own. “We don’t have to,” he whispered. 

Sex had never been a big deal to him. But with Felicity...doing  _that_ with  _her_ , for the first time...was going to be a very big deal. It would change everything. And they both knew it.

“Just promise we won’t let it change us,” she whispered, repeating the words from the first night.

Oliver opened his eyes, looking down at her and she lifted a shoulder. “We’ll still be friends?”

He narrowed his eyes, “Felicity,” he huffed, irritated with her fear as often as he wanted to sooth it, “we’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

She closed her eyes, letting out a single laugh. After a moment, she sighed, shaking her head. He waited for her to open her eyes. And when she did, she offered him a smile. A beautiful, trusting,  _Felicity_ smile. “You’re my  _best_ friend, Oliver,” she touched his cheek, “but you’re right. We’re not  _just_ friends.”


	14. The Body Shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bartender AU Part 3! Previous chapters in this 'verse are 8 and 10. :)

A weekend away from Starling was exactly what Felicity had needed. Taking the time to go visit her mother in Vegas had been a great break, especially when it came to Tommy. He was her best friend, but Tommy was driving her crazy. He was having a very hard time wrapping his head around the idea of her and Oliver being, well, _anything_. Not that they were necessarily a _something_. Unless amazing sex, natural chemistry, and a connection that made her feel like she'd known him forever, could be considered _something_.

Okay, so they were definitely something.

But their something didn't have labels. Not any official ones. And Tommy was breathing down her neck as if he wanted them to sign contracts stating each individual feeling they had and expected a daily log of their activities to keep track of them.

Mixing business and pleasure was more stressful for Tommy than it was for Oliver or Felicity, to say the least.

When Felicity booked her flight, she had really thought that a couple of days away from Oliver would be good for her, too. Things between them had been casual for the last few months, but they were getting dangerously close to that 'next step' stuff. And that terrified her for a whole list of reasons.

Literally, she could create a list about her fears; it'd start with 'Abandonment', blow right through 'Strings' and end in 'Trust.' 

She hadn't committed to Oliver Queen. She wasn't his girlfriend. But she didn't have any desire to sleep with anyone else, and she was certain that he knew it. He knew that he had her full attention. Still, she was the one who insisted on not labeling, remaining unattached, and sticking to a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy.

In truth, that would probably be any man's dream.

Of course she found the one man who wanted the opposite. Wanted everything. _Felt everything_. The only man who didn't jump at the opportunity for good sex with no expectations. Oliver was free to be with other women if he chose. She'd made that clear. Yet he didn't want to...as he had made clear on more than one occasion. Instead, Oliver wanted to stay. He wanted strings and he wanted trust.

And it was very hard to fight it. To keep her walls up when he was so good at climbing them. Patient enough to wait for her to lower them on her own. And passionate enough to not give up on what he wanted. Which was apparently her.

She wanted everything, too, even if she didn't feel ready to have it with Oliver. As a result, they were getting _close_. Very close. And despite the time they spent together, she had yet to get sick of him.

Tommy, on the other hand, she was sick of.

So, she didn't see the harm in a break from the both of them.

But as soon as Felicity's flight landed in Starling, she texted Tommy to let him know she would work at Verdant that night. And as soon as she was back in her apartment, she got ready. Even though she was tired, she dropped her suitcase by the door and went to shower. 

Deep down, she knew it was because she'd missed Oliver. It had only been two days, and she felt ridiculous. But she hadn't been expecting to miss him so much.

Oliver practically lived at the bar, so she wasn't surprised to see him there when she showed up over an hour early for her shift. He looked surprised to see her, though, glancing up from where he sat at the bar. It was the very seat he'd been in when he interviewed her. He had papers laid out over the counter, the same spot he'd laid _her_ on.

Felicity smiled at the thought, but he didn't return it. Oliver raised his eyebrows as she approached, setting his pen down. 

"Hey," Felicity cleared her throat, averting her eyes and lifting her chin as she moved behind the bar, slipping by him and opening the register.

"You're back," he answered.

She gave him a strange look, her stomach doing a few flips because something felt off. "Had to come back at some point," she joked.

"Right," Oliver pursed his lips, nodding. "Well, all you said was that you were going out of town for the weekend. You never actually told me when you'd be home, or that you were going to Vegas, so..."

Felicity watched him carefully, "I told Tommy...he said it was fine." She spoke lowly, stiffening while his eyes narrowed at her. "I'm sorry, I wasn't scheduled to work this weekend. Is there a problem with me leaving town?"

Oliver's lip twitched as he stared at her, "how was your trip?" He asked, his voice cold. "Tommy said you're quite a sight at the blackjack tables."

She cocked her head to the side, her mouth gaping as she searched for a response. She hadn't mentioned to Oliver that she was visiting her mother because that would spark questions...and quite honestly she wasn't sure if he was ready for the Donna Smoak stories. A single, heartbroken mother raising an angry, confused kid whose father disappeared in the middle of the night. Actually, no one was ever really ready for that sad part of her life. And she didn't share it easily.

But Tommy knew the story. He knew her mother. And he knew full well that she wasn't going to Vegas to gamble and party. Which, since it was Tommy Merlyn, only meant one thing. He was playing games. "That's what Tommy told you, huh? That I was partying?"

"Mm-hm," Oliver pinched his lips together, crossing his arms. "Sounds like a pretty fun weekend."

"Did your partner also mention that I grew up in Vegas?" She asked. Oliver's eyebrows furrowed instantly. A very clear 'no' was written all over his face. "That my mom still lives there?"

Tommy. She could strangle him.

Oliver blinked at her for a moment, his eyebrows raising. "You were visiting your mom?"

"Yup," she answered, looking back at him.

As they stared at each other, Oliver's standoffish facade crumbled. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "You're right. You were clear about what we're doing here. You don't owe me explanations. It's not my business what you do with your free time, Miss Smoak." She cringed at his formal tone, pulling out the _Miss_ _Smoak_ on her as if they were distant colleagues rather than...whatever they were. "I have no right to be rude about it, even if you were partying...it's not my business." He huffed, shaking his head.

"Tommy should have told you I was there to see my mom...not gambling through the Las Vegas Strip."

"You could have told me that, too," he replied gently.

To that, Felicity's shoulders slumped. "I know."

Eyeing her, Oliver moved closer, coming around the counter. He waited to speak, picking up the towel from the counter and helping her clean up the bar, getting it ready for the night. "Why didn't you?" He finally mumbled.

"My mom just..." Felicity sighed, "my dad left her when I was young, and we haven't always had the closest relationship. Telling you about it just seemed, I don't know, _intimate_ , I guess. I didn't know if we were really at that level of _sharing_ , and I knew you'd ask."

"I think we've already been incredibly intimate, Felicity."

She let out a breathy laugh, "well, yeah, physically...but not really like _that_."

Turning to look down at her, Oliver smiled. "You honestly haven't even noticed, have you?" He whispered, shaking his head again before he continued. "Felicity, you know a lot more about me than you think. And I know you pretty well, too. You might've thought that telling me about your family was some personal boundary we weren't ready to cross...but you've already let me get to know _you_. All I'm asking is that you continue to let me do that."

"Okay," she breathed. Looking into his eyes, it felt easier than she thought it'd be. "But Oliver...I, um—" her breath caught in her throat, realizing what she wanted to ask him for. "I want to be upfront. I'm not interested in anyone else. Just you...and I think, if you want, it's time we just admit that."

"So...you want to be exclusive, or you just want to be transparent about our other hookups?"

Felicity glared, just the thought of his 'other hookups' made her dormant jealous side come to life. She leveled him with a look. It was high time to stop playing games. "Exclusive," she clarified.

Oliver hummed, putting his hands on her hips and turning her to face him. He leaned in, his lips brushing through her hair. "Good," he whispered in her ear. "I haven't been with anyone but you since that moment we had in the storage room, Felicity. That's the way I'd like it to be. Just so you know."

"No more lies, no more games, no more rules, no more steps backward."

He pulled back, sighing as he pressed his forehead to hers. "I have two feet in, baby."

Nodding, Felicity grinned back, pecking a quick kiss against his lips. She knew that she could get hurt, that he could hurt her, that it could be a mistake to let Oliver into her heart. But she already had both feet in, too.

"Must have been a pretty good weekend with your mom," he mumbled, his fingers combing through her hair. "To have you come home wanting to take the next step."

"Yeah," she hummed against his lips, "she has a way of gently letting me know when I'm being an idiot. And I was being an idiot."

Oliver chuckled, kissing her. "Does this make you my girlfriend?"

"Woah," she teased, giving him a slight pout. "Don't get carried away now." He rolled his eyes, kissing her again before getting back to work.

As the sun went down and the club began to get busy, Oliver helped her behind the bar. Like other nights before, they fell into a natural groove, working around each other as easily as they seemed to do everything together.

Most of the customers were regulars who knew both of them, but even the new faces gave them a relatively relaxed night. Oliver didn't have any fights to break up, people to kick out, or messes to clean.

Just as he commented on it, using the cursed phrase 'it's a quiet night', a group of rowdy men came in through the front door. Felicity frowned, "you jinxed it." She cringed as she realized what they were in for.

There were ten of them. The men were already mindlessly and stupidly hammered, and they were celebrating the cute one in the middle of the pack.

A sloppy Bachelor party. A bar crawl, by the looks of it. And Verdant was far from their first stop.

As they crowded around the bar, Felicity counted the heads one more time, pulling out shot glasses and lining them up. "What are we having tonight, gentlemen?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Unsurprisingly, it was the one she'd already picked out to be the groom who leaned towards her, his eyes leering at her breasts. "I'd like a taste of _you,_ " he slurred.

Felicity smiled, "not on the menu, unfortunately. How about something to drink instead."

Oliver stepped beside her, bottles in hand. "Round of Venom, our signature drink," he offered, "on the house." He earned himself some appreciative reactions from the men.

One round turned to seven, and suddenly the group of rowdy men became a group of belligerent men. And her easy night became an irritating night. Most of the men weren't too bad, but of course, there were a few who had to take things a little too far, ruining everyone's fun. The ill-mannered ones had plenty of whistles and slurred 'honey's' and 'baby's' to toss Felicity's way. But the drunker they got, the less playful it was. She knew they were already close to being cut off, either by her or Oliver. Because her not-boyfriend looked like he wanted to punch more than one of them in the face just for being drunk idiots.

While Felicity cleared the shot glasses from their latest round of Venom, the soon-to-be-married one grabbed at her arm, his fingers digging in too tight.

Stopping, Felicity blinked at him, a warning in her eyes that he was too drunk to notice. She knew how to get out of his hold, she'd done it plenty of times at the other bars she'd worked in. But Felicity knew that twisting his arm and wrenching it back would hurt him. Usually hurting the customers ended in complaints and threats to sue, even when the assholes were clearly in the wrong.

Giving the man a moment to take his hand off her on his own, before she had to deal with the annoying trouble, Felicity raised her eyebrow at him. "Let go," she warned, slowly and clearly. In his state, the groom apparently thought she was teasing, because he grinned, his grip on her wrist tightening. 

A moment later, Oliver appeared at her side, his hand outstretched across the bar as if he was ready to shove the guy away, but he didn't touch him. "I believe my bartender asked you to let go. I'd listen if I were you."

She saw the defeat in his eyes, his lips pouting like a rich, scolded toddler who was mad about not getting his way. And Felicity waited patiently for him to remove his hand, relaxing with the knowledge that he wouldn't cause a scene.

Just as Felicity felt the man's fingers begin to loosen, Tommy pushed through the crowd, coming out of nowhere. And he shoved against the guy's chest, his palms flat. A nice, hard push was all it took to send the drunk man to the floor. He let go of Felicity's arm as he fell right off his chair. "Tommy!" Felicity gasped, surprised at how fast it all happened.

Glancing at her, Tommy offered her a smirk. That _classic_ Tommy Merlyn Smirk. It screamed 'I've been waiting for an excuse to have this much fun. And I just found it.'

She'd known Tommy since college. Which meant she also knew the scene that came next. Tommy always punched _first_ , but he was lucky if he punched the _hardest_.

Judging by the group of men that stood in solidarity against him, it wasn't a fight Tommy had a chance of winning. Felicity's heart sped up. 

The bachelor party helped their friend to his feet. As soon as he was right again, the man pointed a finger at Tommy. "Do you want to fight, bro?" He slurred.

Tommy's lip twitched, his devilish smile ticking up a notch. "I feel sorry for your future wife, _bro_ ," he shot back. "Not only is she about to marry a total asshole, but I'm sure she's dreading the years of mediocre sex she's in for."

Instinctively, Felicity hopped onto the bar and scooted across it, putting herself between Tommy and the confused yet increasingly angry men. All they seemed capable of comprehending was that their friend got knocked to the ground, and Tommy was to blame.

Mob mentality made her fear that her friend was about to get the worst ass kicking of his life. "Easy!" Felicity yelled, holding out her hands as the embarrassed one stepped closer to Tommy.

"That jackass needs a lesson!" He shouted in her face. Tommy's hand shot out from behind her, ready to push him back, but Oliver got there first.

She hadn't seen him come around the bar, but the next thing she knew, Oliver's large form was towering in front of her. He planted his feet, facing the man, and she already felt safer. For her and for Tommy. 

Felicity gave a quick glance over her shoulder, glaring at Tommy. "You're an idiot," she hissed at him. "Do you always have to go out of your way to make things more difficult? Or does it just come naturally?"

In response, Tommy smiled, completely unbothered by the pack of drunk men who were ready to pummel him. He tapped the tip of her nose with his index finger. "How's my favorite Smoak?"

She huffed, beyond irritated. "I'm fine, Tommy. We had it handled."

He frowned, "you know I meant Donna. How is she?"

Felicity rolled her eyes, tossing an elbow into his stomach. "Idiot." And then she peeked around Oliver's shoulder, watching as the sloppy groom teetered, his unfocused eyes narrowing at Oliver as if he was trying to decide whether or not to pick this fight. 

Oliver crossed his arms, "I think it's time you all get the hell out of my bar."

"I think it's time you and your sissy boyfriend meet us outside."

"All right, all right," Felicity nudged Oliver, staring down the bachelor party. "Enough. Just move your party along to the next bar, boys. Or go home before you find yourselves in a jail cell over a stupid bar fight. Wouldn't want to miss your own wedding, would you?"

The man shrugged, "not ready to leave. We were going to have another drink."

Staring him down, Felicity weighed her options. It was either escalate the situation, or compromise. She'd seen enough bar brawls to know the right choice. "One drink," she spoke sternly. "Then you all go. Either that or I call the police to escort your asses out of here. Deal?"

"Sure," he shrugged again, "on one condition. I want another one of those Venom shots," the man could barely keep his eyes open. "And I want to take it off of you."

While Felicity's eyes narrowed, his buddies broke out into loud hollers of approval, a messy chorus of 'body shot!' catching half the club's attention. 

In a place like that, the term took over like wildfire, until all of Verdant was shouting it, pounding their fists on the tables, egging it on. It wasn't like she was a body shot prude. Her best tips in college had come from setting a frosty glass in her cleavage. 

With a sigh, Felicity climbed onto the bar top, using Tommy and Oliver's shoulders to boost herself up. Then she put her fingers in her mouth and whistled, getting everyone's attention. "Fine!" She yelled, holding her arms up. "You want a body shot, let's see a body shot!"

The crowd cheered, and she waited until they calmed down before speaking again. "But who thinks _this_ grimy weasel here should do the honors!?" She asked, pointing to the entitled jackass. Everyone sang back their 'boos' and 'hell no's'. Felicity grinned, satisfied.

Turning her gaze on Oliver, she winked. And he pursed his lips, clearly not knowing where she was going with this and not knowing how to feel about it. Felicity swiped her hand down, gesturing to Oliver. "Who would prefer to see the handsome owner of your favorite bar, Oliver Queen help me out!?" His eyes widened as he gazed up at her, and the crowd erupted.

Felicity glanced around, seeing more than a few of the women stand up from their seats, trying to get a good view when they realized Oliver was near and potentially willing to do body shots.

Without a word, Felicity picked up the bottle of her Venom concoction that she kept stashed behind the bar, her ass in the air while she retrieved a shot glass. Then she sat on one of the bar stools, beckoning Oliver with her finger. He gave her a hesitant look, and she raised her eyebrows, mouthing 'scared?'

If he truly disagreed with her diversion and refused to take the shot, she knew Tommy would happily oblige. As long as she wasn't left hanging in front of all those people.

Thankfully, after a moment's consideration, Oliver moved towards her. She chuckled, her eyes on his while she poured the drink. Felicity broke the contact when his hands landed on her knees, and she focused on carefully setting the full glass between her breasts. It spilled from the edges a little bit, the cold green alcohol landing on her chest. 

Felicity looked up at Oliver, and his eyes were on the glass.

For some reason, she expected him to find a way out of it. He was the most exciting man she'd ever been with, but he was also hesitant. Oliver was a smart, sexy, and ambitious club owner. Spontaneous body-shots seemed more like Tommy's thing. But Oliver's eyes darkened as he watched her. His gaze was focused on her breasts, savoring the sight of her, not looking for a way out. He didn't hesitate. Instead, Oliver stepped between her legs, his hands dragging up her thighs, planting them on her waist. He leaned in, quickly catching the drop on her chest with his tongue. And then Oliver wrapped his lips around the glass, taking it from her shirt and tipping his head back, downing the shot.

Looking at Oliver, she watched as he set the glass on the counter. The room cheered him on, but he didn't seem to notice or care. " _That_ was _not_ a body shot, Felicity," he hummed, the words just for her. He stared down his nose at her with his hands still on her hips, challenging her.

She cocked her head to the side, "what do you mean?"

Rather than offering an explanation, Oliver's hands tightened on her hips, and he lifted her easily. Felicity gasped in surprise, but her ass landed on the bar just as quickly. Her eyes widened, and Oliver's took on a mischievous glint in return. Guiding her, he nudged her shoulders down, pulling her legs up so she was lying across the bar.

"Oh, you can't be serious," she shook her head, fighting a grin.

"You brought body shots into this mess," he teased, ducking his lips to her ear. "We may as well do it right, yeah?"

"Okay," she breathed back, lifting her shoulders and setting her palms flat against the cold wood of the bar. When Oliver leaned over her, she knew exactly what he was going for, seeing his plan from a mile away. He reached across to get what he needed, and then his fingers toyed with the edge of her shirt, hesitating for a moment before he slowly dragged the fabric up to her ribs. 

"Ready?" He mumbled lowly, and she nodded. She waited for the cold alcohol to hit her stomach, but instead she felt his mouth on her neck. He pressed a quick, tiny kiss against her pulse, and then he _licked_. 

Felicity held her breath, ignoring the wild onlookers as she felt Oliver carefully drop a dash of salt to the spot on her throat he'd wet. "Open your mouth," he instructed, and Felicity obeyed immediately. He set something against her lips. A lime. And then his hand flattened against her stomach in a warning before he poured the liquid. She knew it was coming, but she still sucked in a breath as the tequila touched her skin.

Despite the volume in the club, Felicity swore she heard Oliver's husky voice, humming while the booze dripped down her sides. It was a low, satisfied, gravelly sound. And it turned her on much more than it should, given their location, and how many people were watching. 

Oliver's lips pressed against her neck, taking in the salt with an open-mouthed kiss. Her eyes instinctively slid shut, unable to process anything beyond the excitement coursing through her body.

A moment later, she felt his chin drag down her chest, between her breasts. His tongue made a path across her stomach, catching the alcohol, drinking as much of it as he could. She couldn't stop her hand from twining in his hair, a gentle moan escaping her as his tongue lapped at the tequila dripping by her bellybutton.

If they were alone... _phew_ , she'd be urging his gorgeous lips to kiss her a little more south of her stomach.

With one final kiss against her navel, Oliver pulled back. His hand tugging her shirt back into place as soon as he was finished.

And then his face hovered over Felicity's. He gave a quick, sexy wink down at her before he leaned in. Oliver's lips touched hers, sending a shiver down her spine as he went for the lime.

He took his time, pausing for a moment, letting his tongue roam over her bottom lip. It was sexy as hell, and she had to remind herself that attacking his mouth with her own wasn't a good idea.

The crowd finally registered in her mind again, the noise in Verdant exploding while Oliver smiled against her lips. She could taste the tequila on his tongue, mixing with the tangy lime. Felicity let out another moan as he stood up, pulling the fruit out of his mouth and tossing it aside.

She shook her head as he leaned back down, hooking his hands around her back to pick her up. But not before he dipped his lips to her ear again, "this is where you laid the first time I touched you," he growled.

Felicity blinked, realizing that he was right. The day they'd met and the way he'd slid his fingers inside of her right there on the bar; it was one of her fondest memories. One that they both loved to recreate. "I remember," she breathed back, letting him lift her.

Oliver plucked her from the wooden counter and set her on her feet, and she could feel her cheeks turning red as she looked back at their audience. With his reminder still fresh in her mind, it made her heart beat faster to look back at the people.

She'd done plenty of body shots before. The job tended to be a bit of a performance. She'd danced on bar tops in front of crowds bigger than Verdant's that night, but Felicity still felt a wave of embarrassment. Because Oliver's hands and mouth on her would always feel personal and private, and her reactions to him were far from a performance. 

Smiling, Felicity offered an awkward little wave before she ducked behind his shoulder. Her eyes found Tommy, who was _beyond_ amused. He looked smug as if the whole turn of events was his plan all along.

Felicity rolled her eyes at him, glancing around for the obnoxious bachelor party. "Where'd they go?" She called to Tommy, her eyebrows furrowing.

"Stormed out after you insulted them by calling the man of the hour a _grimy weasel_ ," her friend shrugged. "I think they realized no one wants them here. I doubt they'll be coming back anytime soon."

"Good riddance," Felicity sighed, pressing her head against Oliver's back. 

Eventually the onlookers went back to their own drinks, conversations, and dancing. But for the rest of the night, Oliver's heavy gaze lingered on her. She met his eyes more than once, and she knew by the fiery, promising expression behind them, that he'd be doing that again later. He couldn’t wait to lay her across the bar and explore her body with his tongue, taste whatever he wanted on her skin and take his time with it, once the bar was empty.


	15. Feverish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One-shot: With Smoak Tech still in its early stages, Felicity wants her Archer program to really impress the company’s committee. On the day of her presentation, she begins to feel strange, but soon realizes that she’s not sick in the way she’d suspected. It’s not a stomach bug as she, Oliver, and Roy assumed. 
> 
> Vertigo is back in Starling with all new side effects. And Felicity has been dosed.

Nervous jitters ran through Felicity’s body as she paced in her office, going over her presentation for the hundredth time that week.

Smoak Tech was still new. It needed meetings like this so that she could really establish herself and her company as a force to be reckoned with. Archer was her ace. Her baby. The program was her card to play that would set her apart from any other business in the field; past, present, and hopefully future. 

Done right, Archer could be the best thing to ever happen to national security.

The pressure was on. And the first step was making sure that her presentation went perfectly. 

“Kevin,” Felicity let out a sigh of relief as her assistant rushed into her office, carrying heaven in a cup that she’d been too worked up to remember this morning. “Oh my god, you’re a life saver. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Holding the paper cup between her hands and taking a deep breath in, Felicity closed her eyes, giving herself just that small second to relax. Smell the delicious aroma of coffee fill her nose before she took a sip. “Okay,” she nodded to Kevin, “now sit, please? I have time for one more practice run before I have to go in there and impress those stuffy millionaires.”

“You want me to listen to your presentation?” Kevin asked, his eyes widening.

She smiled at her eager assistant, “of course. I need fresh ears, and you’re brilliant.” Kevin gaped at her, his mouth opening and closing while she took in a few more gulps of coffee, hoping it’d give her the boost she needed. “Sit, sit,” Felicity chuckled, gesturing to the couch across from her desk.

He nodded, clearing his throat and taking a seat. She rolled her shoulders back, straightening her note cards on her desk and pretending as if Kevin was the board of investors she needed to knock the socks off. Felicity knew that while Kevin clearly respected her, he would also tell her whether or not she was a babbling mess. Unlike her husband, who had sat through the pitch three times and told her it was incredible each time. _He_ was a bias sweetheart. Kevin would be upfront and honest.

So Felicity was more than pleased when her assistant offered a round of applause upon her finishing the presentation, a wide smile on his face. “It’s perfect, Mrs. Smoak,” he praised, “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Felicity beamed, standing up and tossing her empty coffee in the trash. Then she fixed her shirt, carefully tucking in the blouse and making sure her hair was smooth and in place, her makeup intact. Then she exhaled, smiling at Kevin one more time before she opened her office door. “Wish me luck,” she mumbled, straightening her shoulders.

“Good luck,” he called back, the sound of her heels clicking against the tiles muffling his words.

She put a smile on her face as she entered the conference room, taking her place at the head of the table. “Good morning everyone,” she greeted the board, her eyes lingering on the only friendly face in the room.

John Diggle was in attendance on behalf of ARGUS, there to help decide if Archer would do more harm than good for, well, the world. Felicity sucked in a breath, steeling her nerves. She had nothing to worry about. It may not have been completely ethical, but she’d already consulted her friend about Archer. And it made her feel more confident to know that she already had at least one person on her side.

Formalities handled, Felicity dove right into explaining the program, how it would keep the people of Star City safe and informed. All the ways the police could use it to find criminals and put the right people behind bars. Of course, the only one who seemed to have push back on that was the police captain, who held to her stubborn belief that the SCPD was more than capable as they were.

Statistics told a different story. And Felicity knew she had to be a bit more direct and aggressive in proving her point. “Crime rates in Star City are some of the worst in the  _world_. They’ve only been increasing since 2018. In the last two years since my husband was unmasked, they’ve gone up by over seventy percent,” she explained, gesturing to the data projected on the wall behind her. “When the Green Arrow was active, he was something to be feared. A legend in our streets that scared criminals off. And the ones who weren’t afraid, learned that he wasn’t just a myth. When Oliver showed his face, it made our home less safe.”

She swallowed, pausing to look the board members in the eyes. “Trust me, I am the last person who wants to admit this. Unmasking Oliver Queen as the Green Arrow was the biggest mistake we could’ve made. Archer proved that. And it’s also our way of making Star City safe again.”

“Excuse me, Mrs. Smoak,” Dr. Morrison, the CEO of Star City Hospital, spoke up. “I’m open to solutions here. I think everyone in this room wants the same thing, we all want a safe home for our future. But how is a computer program going to help? How could it stop a murder or a mugging or a robbery? Catching criminals after the fact is great, but how do we keep people safe in the first place? How could this Archer system possibly prevent real-life crime?”

Felicity smiled, “I’m glad you asked.” She took the next few minutes to explain the details of her work, the extent to the things Archer would be able to do. How it could combine almost every tactic used to prevent crime from facial recognition to home security.”

But there were also more unorthodox, out of the box methods that Archer was capable of. Such as taking and saving DNA from a crime scene and tirelessly hunting until it found a match, alerting police the moment it picked up on the strand. “It can follow DNA straight to a criminal. Track them.”

The more she told them about Archer, the more she could tell that she was convincing them. As she fielded their questions, she couldn’t help but notice the expression on Dig’s face. Pride radiated off of him, a smile on his lips that he was trying to hide. “So, Mrs. Smoak,” he finally addressed her. “One of Star City’s biggest problems has been running rampant since before Oliver Queen even knew how to walk. Does your program have a way to help with it?”

She bit her lip, fighting a smile of her own. He knew it did. “Ah,” Felicity nodded, “you must mean the drug trade, Mr. Diggle. Star City has been victim to a revolving door of cartel for years. As we all know, the worst of which is a persistent issue with a substance known as Vertigo. I assure you, Archer is more than adaptable when it comes to these changes. It can use the same sequence that it does to sort a person’s DNA to pick up traces of contraband. If drugs, especially Vertigo, are ever manufactured here, Archer will sniff it out.”

The rest of her presentation was a lot of back and forth between her and the board. Many of them had concerns about such new technology, but by the end of the meeting Felicity felt confident that she would receive a stamp of approval. Getting the green light would mean taking the next step in her quest to better the city. Or the world, if she really wanted to dream big.

And she did.

As the meeting ended, she waved, smiled, and shook hands with the board on their way out. John hung behind, waiting until the crowd cleared before he finally let himself grin like she knew he’d been wanting to the whole time.

“I’m so proud of you!” He gushed once the elevator doors had closed and they were alone in the empty conference room. Dig stepped towards her, wrapping his giant arms around her and lifting her feet straight off the floor. Felicity giggled as he spun her around, pulling her tight against him in one of his signature John Diggle hugs.

But while she usually felt the warm and fuzzy’s, Felicity noticed the jolt of some kind of thrill rush through her body at the contact. Her skin instantly flushed as her hands landed on John’s shoulders. His pulse was a steady beat beneath her fingertips, his scent filling her nose, and the sensations made her heart start to race unexpectedly. 

Diggle put her back on her feet, completely oblivious as she caught her breath. “That was amazing, Felicity. I’d say Archer is a definite go.”

Blinking up at him, she nodded. “Yeah,” Felicity huffed, smoothing her palms against her skirt as she felt them begin to sweat. “Thanks, Dig, I-I uh,” she suddenly felt lightheaded, her legs getting wobbly. “I think my adrenaline’s been up here for the past week,” she tossed her hand above her head to showcase. “And I’m finally crashing,” the chuckle that passed her lips sounded distant to her own ears.

“Are you all right?” Dig asked, concern etching between his eyebrows.

“Yes...I just need to sit. All the excitement is finally wearing off. Phew,” she sighed. John put his hands on her elbows, steadying her like he was afraid she might fall. But the fiery path his touch left was much more strange to her. 

Felicity stepped out of his grip, rubbing her hands over her arms where her skin still felt warm, as if his hands were still there. “I’ll just be in my office. Relaxing for a little bit. Call me if you hear anything, please?”

He nodded, “take a nap while you’re at it, yeah?” She tossed him a look over her shoulder, seeing that he didn’t plan on budging until she made it down the hall without passing out. So she hurried off to the safety of her desk. At least there, she could lay her head on the cool glass and catch her breath.

Overtired mess that she was aside, Archer was finally becoming a reality. That was all that mattered. And John was right, a nap sounded perfect.

* * *

 

She must have fallen asleep on the couch in her office, because she woke up to a dark office and a blanket covering her. Felicity blinked, remembering where she was. Then she groaned, tossing aside the blanket Kevin kept stashed in his desk for these instances.

Kicking her shoes out of the way, Felicity shuffled across her office to her desk, retrieving her phone. She felt like she’d been hit by a bus. Her head was throbbing and cloudy, her body weak and achy. 

Maybe it was the flu. Maybe that’s what all the weird stuff was with John. Maybe she’d just felt dizzy and disoriented after he’d spun her around like that. 

Felicity groaned, seeing that she’d been asleep for a little over two hours. The curtains in her office were drawn shut, the door closed. 

Kevin.

The guy had an annoying way of taking care of her _needs_ before her _wants_ , and now half her day was gone. She _wanted_ to get a jump start on Archer, finding investors and calling the right people that could help her get the whole city behind her plan. She needed to be proactive about it, especially now that the board seemed to sway in her favor. But, as Kevin seemed to predict, what she’d really _needed_ was a long nap.

As she looked at her phone, she found three texts and one missed call from her husband. Felicity sighed, calling him back immediately. He tended to worry when she went dark on him. 

Oliver answered on the third ring, “hey, I was wondering when you’d wake up. Dig said you didn’t look too good earlier and Kevin said you've been asleep since the meeting. You okay?”

“Ugh,” she grumbled, “I feel like you when you have a man-cold.”

“The flu is going around, Felicity. I told you that not sleeping and only drinking coffee was a bad idea.”

“I don’t need lectures,” Felicity groaned, “come over here and cuddle with me.” 

Every time she was sick, all she wanted to do was lay in bed with Oliver. The idea of stripping her clothes off and curling up on his chest was more appealing than it’d ever been. He always ran his fingers through her hair. Kissed her forehead. Dragged his nails down her back until she fell asleep.

He laughed, “I just sent Roy and Mia over with some soup.”

Felicity frowned, “you’re not coming?”

“I can’t, honey,” Oliver sighed. “I’m going to be stuck at the office for a while. I had Roy pick Mia up from daycare though, they’re on their way over. I’ll meet you at home later...and I’ll be sure to cuddle you.”

“No lectures?” She pouted.

“No lectures. I love you,” he answered sweetly, the smile evident in his voice.

With another dissatisfied groan, feeling like the only thing that could make her feel better was Oliver, Felicity grumbled, “I love you, too.” 

After reminding her to check her temperature and drink lots of fluids, he gave a reluctant sigh. “I have to get back to work. Make sure Roy gets you whatever you need, okay?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes because she knew how much Roy Harper loved to take orders. Although she also knew that he’d do it for her in a heartbeat.

A few minutes after she hung up with Oliver, Roy and Mia arrived. They came with lunch; her soup as promised and sandwiches for themselves. And Mia was over the moon excited about spending an afternoon with her favorite uncle, telling Felicity all about their plans to go see a movie in her adorable two-year old babble that only she, Oliver, and Roy seemed able to understand fully. 

She listened to her daughter, letting their company and the soup make her feel a little better. Roy also brought water and orange juice, and he eyed her until she finished all of it, definitely her husband’s doing.

The moment Mia was finished her lunch, she got up and went to Roy, pulling on his jeans. “Ayer pwane?” She asked, her cute little voice rising in pitch, knowing how to charm her uncle in order to get what she wanted. 

“Oh, I don’t know, kiddo...” Roy sighed, making a face while Mia pouted. Shaking his head as if he could ever say no to the little girl, Roy caught her off guard when he suddenly bent down and scooped her up. Mia’s squeals and giggles filled the office, making Felicity smile.

Roy positioned both hands on Mia, holding her above his head, and she couldn’t stop laughing as she tossed her arms out like an airplane. Then Roy carried her around the office, making noises more suited for a race car than a plane. Not that Mia cared.

In her heart, Felicity knew that she would always be thankful for Roy Harper coming back to Star City. It wasn’t just that he made a difference on the team, although his ability to have her husband’s back would always be appreciated. Roy was also willing to drop everything if she or Oliver needed him. And he was quick to help with Mia, too, which earned him the respectable title of Favorite Babysitter in their daughter’s eyes.

As Roy swooped Mia down to the floor and back up above his head, Felicity’s eyes lingered on his back, his muscles beneath the t-shirt he wore that rolled with the movement. Then her eyes trailed to his arms, bigger than she’d ever noticed or paid attention to. Since when did Roy have huge arms? They weren’t tree trunks like Dig’s, or even as big as Oliver’s. Roy was leaner, smaller than the other men. It’s not like he was unattractive, she’d just never seen him that way. But for some reason, she couldn’t  _stop staring_.

And when his eyes flickered over to her, probably feeling her intent focus on him, Felicity noticed how blue his eyes were.

Just like the muscles, his eyes weren't anything compared to Oliver's, either...but she was having a hard time thinking about anything other than Roy in that moment. Blue eyes and big arms. 

“Felicity?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he lowered Mia to the couch. She gaped at him, and he set her daughter down and came closer. All Felicity could do was stare; his chiseled jaw and pretty cheekbones that had become more ruggedly handsome over the last few years. More her type.

_No. No, no. What?_

“Felicity, are you okay?” She stared up at him as he came around her desk, and then he shoved her shoulder without warning.

“Ow,” she exhaled, her heart hammering in her chest. 

“I swear to god, you weren’t breathing just now,” he grumbled, keeping his voice down so Mia wouldn’t hear. Felicity let out a deep breath, at a loss for words. “What’s going on with you? This doesn’t seem like a cold,” he leaned down, putting his face close to hers so he could see her eyes. But that meant she could see his eyes. And she was right back to a one-track mind of ‘holy gorgeous blue.’

“Maybe we should get you home,” Roy mumbled, looking concerned. “You look...off.” His hand came up to cup her cheek, probably trying to feel if she was warm, but Felicity involuntarily leaned into it, groaning as her eyes slipped shut. Roy pulled his hand back, clearing his throat. 

Felicity’s eyes flew open, and Roy took a step back. “I’m—that—you...what?”

“I think you have a fever,” Roy mumbled awkwardly. “I think I should drive you home before Mia and I go to the movie. I’ll let Oliver know he should probably head home early to check on you in a bit.”

“No,” Felicity straightened, trying to snap out of it. “He’s busy and I’m a grown woman. I can handle a little stomach bug,” she shook her head, clearing it. She had no idea what the hell was going on with her, but Oliver didn’t need to leave work just to take care of her.

Although at this rate, she was a little concerned she’d be horny for Kevin if she didn’t get out of there and sleep off the weird funk she felt hanging over her brain. 

“I will take that ride home, though, I think it’s probably best at this point...” 

* * *

 

Being home did nothing to help.

She tried to sleep, but her sheets that were usually cool and soft felt too hot and scratchy. She couldn’t get comfortable. 

When Felicity finally accepted that sleep wasn’t an option, she tried a bath. But that didn't help to relax her.

Next came a movie on the couch and drinking more water, yet that didn’t make her feel any better. It didn’t feel like the flu. She wasn’t tired or nauseous. She felt like she couldn’t sit still, like every part of her body just felt  _off_ somehow _._

Everything was getting on her nerves. Her clothes, the taste of the water, the piece of hair that kept falling out of her ponytail and touching her neck, even her favorite movie made her want to plunge her fist through the screen.

Felicity flipped through the channels while her legs bounced, trying to find any kind of distraction. 

She felt jittery, itchy. And when the idea crossed her mind that her  _skin_ felt like it didn’t fit right, that it was too tight and too hot, she felt like she was going crazy. “Fresh air,” Felicity mumbled to herself, turning the television off and sliding shoes on her feet.

Walking would help. It had to. She needed to get some energy out, anyway. The fresh air would clear her head, and hopefully then she’d be able to go home and not pace around the house feeling insane.

Her feet moved down the sidewalks of the city on their own accord, her head too focused on the alarming feelings welling inside of her to notice anything else. It didn’t even register where she was going until she was looking up at the neon sign plastered on top of her building.

Smoak Tech wasn’t a far drive from their house at all. But walking? She must’ve been going for more than an hour. “Oh...” Felicity blinked, surprised by where she found herself. Then she remembered that she didn’t have her phone, her husband would surely be worried that she took off without it, and her daughter would be back from her movie any minute now. She had to call them, have Oliver pick her up at Smoak Tech.

Felicity hurried inside the building, getting into the elevator to take it up to her office. Her head was getting cloudy again, probably her body’s way of punishing her for that walk across town.

The elevator doors closed, and Felicity tried to slow down her thrumming heart, putting her hand over her chest while she took deep breaths. Even with her eyes closed, something felt wrong. And when she opened them, it felt like the walls were closing in around her.

No, it wasn’t just a feeling. She could  _see_ them closing in around her, pushing closer and closer. Felicity could feel her heart pounding in her chest, panic rising in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, the logical side of her knowing that there was no way the walls were collapsing on her, yet it felt so real.

When she heard the ding of the elevator, alerting her that she’d reached her floor, Felicity held her breath, gripping the railing tightly in her hand and keeping her eyes closed. She didn’t open them until she heard the doors slide open. 

As soon as they did, she darted for the hallway, keeping her eyes peeled long enough to make it out. And then she slumped against the wall, looking back at the piece of hell she felt like she’d just escaped. Felicity stared as the doors closed behind her. It looked completely normal. The walls in their rightful place.

She shook her head, moving towards her office on shaky legs. Something was incredibly wrong. It couldn't be natural, not a sickness at all, and she realized that now. All she had to do was call Oliver. He would know what to do.

Reaching her office, Felicity pushed inside, letting out a breath of relief when her eyes noticed Oliver right away. He stood by the window in his gray suit, looking handsome as ever. “Hi,” she lunged towards him, throwing herself right into his arms. “Oliver, I don’t know what’s going on. I feel so strange...”

“What happened?” He asked, catching her easily, his fingers sliding down her back. She closed her eyes, letting him comfort her.

“I thought it was just the flu or something. It started this morning, after my meeting. I just felt really off, weak and lightheaded. Then at lunch it happened again, and I kept having these weird thoughts about Roy. My head was just...I don’t even know. So I went home, but it just got worse. My skin is on fire and my organs feel like they’re throwing a party inside of me, and my body just—just feels like it’s not even mine. And then I was in the elevator and I seriously thought the thing was about to eat me. I've never been so claustrophobic and it felt so real. Something's wrong, I just don't know what's happening to me.”

Oliver looked down at her, his expression worried. He combed his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face. And Felicity groaned, stepping closer because having his hands on her was the first good thing she’d felt in hours. The first thing that seemed to relax her relentless nerves. “Roy told me you weren’t home and you’d left your phone behind. How did you get here? He said your car was still in the driveway.”

“I walked.”

Oliver's eyebrows furrowed, his fingers pausing on her forehead, checking how warm she was. “You’re burning up,” he mumbled. “Hold on, let me get you some water.” Oliver stepped back, heading for the mini-fridge that he kept stocked with snacks and water, knowing her well enough that sometimes when she got in the zone at work, she forgot about things like hydration and food.

Felicity's breath was heavily as she watched him, feeling her body go weak once Oliver let go of her. She felt like she’d just run a marathon. Leaning against the windows, Felicity groaned. The cold glass felt good, almost as good as Oliver’s hands. She turned against it, pressing her forehead into it and looking down at the street.

“Hey,” Oliver whispered, gently resting the bottle over her bare neck, seeming to know just what she needed.

“Oh my god,” Felicity sighed. The combination of the glass on her forehead and the water bottle against her neck gave her a moment’s relief. But it only lasted a moment. She groaned in frustration, feeling that annoying pull of her skin again.

Oliver’s lips brushed over her ear, “I think we should get you to Dr. Schwartz...” he told her quietly, his tone concerned. But the rush of his breath against her skin offered some kind of relief. And she followed the feeling as if it was cold water and she was stranded in a hot desert. Felicity moaned, arching her back into him, needing to feel more. “Honey,” he sighed, “you’re not well. We need to get you checked out.” She circled her hips, rubbing her ass against him. “Fe-li-ci-ty,” Oliver hissed, his hands grabbing her waist to stop her movements.

“Please,” she found herself sighing, the sound desperate and low. Felicity pressed both of her palms against the window while she pushed her hips back into him. “Oh, god, Oliver," she gasped. The contact was the first thing that made her feel better all day. "I need you...this is what...I need...” he thrusted his hips against her, keeping her tight between the glass and his body as a growl of understanding echoed in her ear. "I—I need to _feel_ you."

“This is what you need, baby?” He hummed, his teeth grazing her earlobe. It was difficult to move too much while she was tucked between him and the window, but god, she sure as hell tried. Her hips frantically rolled into him, her neck arching so her lips could nip at his jaw. “Where do you need to feel me? Inside of you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” she mewled, never needing him, or anything, more. “Now, Oliver. Now. Oh my god,  _please_.” 

Felicity literally felt like she would die without it.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, the weight of Oliver’s body vanished. Felicity blinked, turning her head to find him, to  _beg_ him if she had to.

But he was gone.

“Oliver?” Felicity whimpered, her eyes darting around the room. She didn’t see him. Her office was made of glass and the curtains were open. There was no way he could’ve gotten out of the room in the time it took for her to turn her head. It wasn't possible. Yet he was nowhere to be found.

Suddenly, she was alone. And she felt the cold sting of it fill the dark room. Like he’d never been there at all.

“Oh,” Felicity inhaled sharply, pushing away from the window and clumsily falling towards her desk. “Oh, no.” She grabbed her phone and quickly dialed his number. 

“Hi, honey,” Oliver answered immediately. “Why are you calling me from work? I thought Roy brought you home. Please tell me you're feeling better if you went back.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m still at work...” He hesitated, confused by her tense tone, and Felicity squeezed her eyes shut.

“So, you weren’t here just now? At Smoak Tech?”

“No,” Oliver laughed under his breath. “Are you feeling okay? What's going on?”

She shook her head even though he couldn’t see it. “No, Oliver...” Felicity choked on the breath she took, trying to stay calm for him. “I don’t think I’m okay at all.”

Oliver paused, and she knew that his Protective Husband Mode was kicking in. Not the fussy one who got worked up about whether she drank enough water. The growly one. The one that was ready for a fight at the drop of a hat. The one who would _kill_  to protect her or the kids. “What’s happening?” He asked, his voice thick with tension.

“Something feels...wrong,” Felicity whined, her skin doing that infuriating thing again.  _Tightening_. Driving her crazy.

“Felicity...” he sighed, “I will be there in five minutes. Stay on the line with me, baby.”

She let out a needy breath of relief. Oliver knew better than anyone that  _needy_ wasn’t a common thing for her. “Hurry,” she begged anyway.

“Talk to me,” Oliver muttered, and she could hear his motorcycle rev from the other end. Felicity bit her lip, because the sound of his motorcycle only had her thinking about one thing. Riding it. How good it felt to have Oliver between her thighs while she straddled the back of that thing. The vibrations that shot through her whole body. In response to his request, all he got was a desperate moan. “Felicity?”

“I need you to get here,” she gasped back. It was clear that the Oliver from before hadn’t been real. She’d been hallucinating, which was never good. In fact, seeing things that were not there probably qualified as very,  _very_ bad.

“I think...I think I ingested something?” It came out like a question, but at that point she was pretty certain that it was the only explanation. Yet, Felicity was also afraid it’d send Oliver into a panic.

“What do you mean?” He snapped.

“I don’t know!” Felicity wailed, “I’ve never felt anything like this. I saw you, but it wasn’t you, and you were touching me, and it felt  _so good_...too good. But you weren't actually here. It wasn't real. And the elevator—that wasn't real either and _god_ , Oliver, I want to _rip my skin off._ I literally—holy shit, I  _need_ you.”

“Felicity...” he breathed, the purr of his bike ticking up a notch. “I think someone dosed you with Vertigo.”

“Vertigo?” She froze, his words distracting her from everything, rendering her perfectly still.

“There’s a new dealer in town...I just found out about it an hour ago. This new strand...it has all the symptoms you’re describing...Fuck, Felicity, I knew you weren’t feeling well today. I should have seen this sooner. Damn it!”

“We thought it was just the stomach bug,” she breathed back. Even in her state, she wanted to sooth his awful habit of blaming himself for everything. “Tell me what it does. The new Vertigo.”

“Well, it uh...it’s supposed to, I guess it um, aides people in having the best sex of their lives. That’s kind of the selling point, anyway. But if it’s ingested without, you know, finishing...”

“What, Oliver? What happens if you take the drug without climax?”

“There have been a few people in cardiac arrest, collapsed lungs, heart attacks...” he grit out the words. 

Felicity remembered how it felt when Hallucination Oliver was rubbing against her. Like she wouldn’t _survive_ if he didn’t fuck her.

“They die,” she realized.

* * *

 

Oliver flew into the parking lot of Smoak Tech and abandoned his bike on the sidewalk in front of the building. As soon as he was through the doors, he was running. 

It was a strange feeling. He’d done his fair share of hurrying home out of eagerness to make love to his wife. Felicity found a very fun game she liked; where she would send him pictures of herself throughout the day, and he would go crazy. It made his day interesting, and a little uncomfortable. But she loved it. Loved getting him worked up, teasing him.

On those nights, he was never disappointed. Felicity was always just as ready as he was by the time he walked through the door, thoughts of the photos she'd send giving him a hard-on the whole ride home.

Yet, bolting up the stairs of her building because he was far too frantic to wait for the elevator, and still feeling his heart racing as he ran down the hallway to her office, all while knowing that Felicity might literally  _die_ if she didn’t have sex...all he could feel was panic and stress. It was hard to find the fun in something like that. And he was still kicking himself for not realizing something was wrong, when his own wife had been feeling sick all day.

All day.

In the cases he’d just read about, none of the victims had made it past twenty four hours before the drug betrayed them.

Most people who ingested the new Vertigo did it on purpose, with the advertised promise of having the best orgasm of their life. But there were a few who had taken it ignorantly and not been able to realize what was happening soon enough. Some who had taken it expecting to get laid...and ended up going home alone. There were only a handful of deaths, but no one taking the stuff expected to die because of it. That was just an added bonus that also made the newest knockoff "Count Vertigo" a premeditated murderer. 

The whole situation wasn't exactly turning him on, to say the least. So even as he stormed into Felicity’s office and met her eyes, hearing her moan his name at the sight of him, all he could do was worry. When Felicity stood from her desk, she instantly pulled at the buttons of her shirt, moving on shaky legs towards him. And Oliver felt his heart drop to his stomach.

She needed him. God, she needed him more than she ever had.

Bringing Felicity pleasure was his favorite activity. All he had to do was the same thing he always did. Except for the fact that if he didn’t, she might die. _No pressure._

_Holy hell. How did this even happen?_

“Oliver,” Felicity gasped as he crossed the room to reach her, throwing her arms around his neck. She hugged him so tightly, and he held her back with just as much power. 

“You’re okay,” he breathed into her hair, out of breath after all those stairs. “Everything’s okay.”

He felt her nod, her lips rubbing against his cheek. “Oh, god, I feel like I’m going crazy.” Her nose turned towards him, breathing him in. “I feel like an addict in the middle of the worst withdrawal of her life. But at the same time, an alcoholic with a hangover. No, it’s worse than any of that. You know those Twilight movies I made you watch after you came home from the island? That vampire guy that was all cracked out for Bella’s blood?”

Oliver scrunched his nose at the memory, “yes...” She raised her eyebrows, getting her point across, and Oliver huffed out a laugh, despite himself. “Please don’t make jokes right now, Felicity,” he groaned. “This is serious.”

“I know, I know,” she sighed, her hands running down his arms. “But this is also  _so insane_ that we’re going to have to laugh about it someday...so we might as well get a head start. It seems like a more normal way to deal with this, rather than 'fuck or die' right?”

“I’m just...” he inhaled a deep breath, closing his eyes and letting it out slowly, the breath passing his lips. Felicity’s hands slowed on his arms, her fingers dragging over his warm, flushed skin.

When he opened his eyes again, Oliver looked down at his wife, seeing that her attention was on her own hands. “That feels amazing,” she breathed, her eyebrows furrowing. Her fingers continued to slide over the hair on his arms, giving him goosebumps. Felicity’s eyes continued to watch the movement, a concentrated look of bewilderment on her face.

“Felicity,” he whispered, stepping closer. She sucked in a breath as he invaded her space, lifting his hand to hook it around her hip, pulling her in. With his chest pressed to hers, Oliver tightened his grip on her waist, and she nodded to herself while she stepped between his feet. Her body flushed against his, that expression on her face becoming more evident. He hesitated, watching the shift as if she could feel every brush of her skin that touched his.

Maybe she could.

“C’mere,” Oliver finally murmured, the look of arousal on her face making his own need burst to life. Gently, he placed his fingers under her chin, tilting her face up so he could see her. Taking a moment, Oliver analyzed her; her wide pupils, her skin a little too cold and definitely too pale. He let his fingers trace her jaw, brushing over her pulse, and Felicity let out a loud groan, her eyes rolling back as she pushed up onto her toes.

In the next moment, her lips were on his, catching him by surprise. She tasted a bit different somehow, and it gave him pause. When he didn’t kiss her back right away, Felicity whimpered. Her teeth tugged on his bottom lip, and his mind cleared.

All he could feel was the desperate way she pulled on him, all he could hear were those needy little whines. Asking him. Begging him. Making him feel just a fraction of the need coursing through her.

Her arm slipped from his neck, her hand grabbing at his hair. Oliver growled, yanking her closer, sliding his tongue against the seam of her lips. She opened for him for him immediately, nipping at his tongue.

Felicity pulled him hard by his hair, like she couldn’t get close enough. And Oliver used the leverage to pick her up, turning and carrying her to the couch behind them. He set her down, trying to be gentle but she was being the opposite, and he practically tossed her onto the cushions. She yelped, landing on her ass, and he set his hands on her thighs, keeping her steady as he knelt in front of her.

“What are you doing?” Felicity gasped.

In truth, the available information about the drug was incredibly limited. It was still so new. It'd only been on the streets for a few weeks, based on the reports they’d found in Chicago, Coast City, Gotham, and Boston. 

Did she just need to orgasm as soon as possible? Did she need to come more than once, again and again until the Vertigo was out of her system? Did he need to be inside of her for it to work? He had no idea.

“Being thorough,” Oliver mumbled, answering her question.

Lifting her skirt, Oliver hiked it up to her waist and pushed her back against the couch, pulling her knees forward until her legs were wide, spreading them out on either side of his face. He hummed, pushing her already soaked panties to the side. He gave himself a view of her glistening sex, mere inches from his mouth. The sweet smell made his cock jerk as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her folds.

He tasted her instantly, inspiring his own groans that mixed with her whimpers. 

One kiss was all it took, and Felicity cried out, arching her back and hooking her legs over his shoulders. He did it again, and this time her thighs tightened, clenching around his face while her fingers knotted in his hair. He gripped her knees in his hands, pulling her legs away so he could spread them, allowing himself access.

Then he licked between her lips, from her entrance to her clit, noting that she even  _tasted_ slightly different. It was a dull reminder of the terrible pressure they were under. What was at stake there. Yet, it was impossible not to join his wife in her abandon. To focus on her tiny noises, fueling the fire they were starting.

He’d had Felicity in countless ways, their passion inspired by plenty of different emotions over the years. Not to mention that he had yet to discover a position she wasn’t willing to try at least once. But there was something different in her on that night. Something instinctive and primal. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t stop himself from acknowledging that the state she was in was because of the Vertigo. It wasn’t about him, or them, or their love. Underneath it all, her intense need for pleasure was about survival. 

The thought sent a possessive rush to his head. Oliver growled as he opened his mouth, lapping at her delicious sex. He scraped his teeth over her folds, pink and puffy and ready for him. Felicity keened, the sound so raw and pained that his eyes snapped up, his chin wet with her essence as he looked up at her face.

She whined the moment his mouth left her sex, her hips bucking, seeking friction. “Oliver,” Felicity gasped, gripping his hair painfully tight, trying to guide his head back down. He watched her for a moment, needing to know that she was okay. “Please,” Felicity begged. “Please, please, please.”

The look in her eyes was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. She stared down at him, and he swore he saw unshed, frustrated tears in her eyes before she blinked and they were gone.

Felicity needed him. In a way she had never needed him before. In a way she would never,  _ever_ need him again, if he had anything to say about it. But in that moment, none of it mattered. She  _needed_ him.

Oliver nodded once, diving back in. He rubbed his chin against her entrance, wrapping his lips around Felicity’s hard, sensitive clit. Luckily, he had plenty of experience in making his wife come for him. He knew how to build her up, how to tease her, keep her right on the edge until he was sure she’d be a delirious, gorgeous and blissed out mess. But he didn’t want that. It wasn’t what she needed. 

What she needed was to be fucked. Now.

He sucked on her clit.  _Hard_. Oliver kept his mouth firmly on it while she writhed against him. And he let her, let her take what she needed, let her feel everything. 

He moved his head with her wild thrusts as she rode his face, feeling the muscles in her thighs tensing. And he knew her body well enough to know that she was just on the edge. Oliver hummed, his voice rumbling from his mouth to her core, and Felicity dug her heels into his back. “Yes, yes yes,” she cried, and then her body stiffened. 

“Oliver!” She screamed his name, the sound echoing against the walls. He growled, slamming her hips back down to the couch as he flicked her pearl with his tongue. She was tense for a long moment, throwing her head back as she came. Her whole body froze, tensing as if she couldn't function, her mouth dropping open and her eyes rolling shut. Oliver held her hips down, but her chest arched towards the ceiling, her hand clenching around her pebbled nipple. With his lips still around her clit, Oliver reached his hand up to her breast, covering her hand with his own, gently pulling her fingers back before her nails dug in too hard on her flesh.

She held her breath as she came, the veins over her neck pulsing until she finally exhaled, slumping into the couch. 

He removed his mouth slowly, covering her sensitive sex in feathery kisses, licking his lips and tasting her on himself. As she caught her breath, Oliver moved up her body, cupping her head and pulling her towards him.

Felicity’s eyes lulled open, her lids heavy. “Baby,” he whispered, skimming his lips across hers, “are you all right?”

She hesitated, a long moment passing between them while she seemed to consider his question.

Her eyes met his, her chest still heaving as she panted. And then a defeated, unnerving cry bubbled past her lips, cutting right through him. “No!” She groaned. “I still...I still feel...oh my god. That was perfect, yet I’m already—ugh! Horny is fantastic. Trust me, I love horny. But  _all the time_!? Oliver, I’ll go crazy. What if it never stops!?”

“Sh, sh, sh,” he pushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ears. He stood, keeping his eyes on hers in silent comfort, letting her know that he was right there with her. He wouldn’t be going anywhere. 

Oliver nodded, and Felicity nodded back. Then he removed his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it onto the couch beside her. Her eyes flickered from the shirt to his chest, and he could see the fire reigniting in her eyes already. It was fueled by the drug, but it was still Felicity. 

His Felicity.

She stood up, closing the distance between them until her hands fell on his waist. Her eyes roamed over him, her fingers making quick work of his zipper. Felicity slipped her hand inside, and Oliver groaned as she cupped his hardening cock. She leaned in, covering his chest with hot, wet kisses. His eyes closed, his head falling back. And she didn’t stop, her mouth never leaving his skin as she slipped her hand into his boxers and rubbed until he was rock hard. 

Her thumb grazed the head of his erection, touching the slit as his arousal wet her finger. Felicity moaned breathlessly, her face angled down to watch what she was doing to him. And then she sighed, bringing her thumb to her mouth and sucking it clean. Oliver held his breath, staring as her red lips wrapped around the digit, and her eyes slid up to meet his gaze.

The moment her eyes touched his, something snapped in both of them.

In an instant, Felicity was bending over, yanking Oliver's pants and underwear to his ankles. Then she tugged on his arms, pulling him towards her desk and he followed, freeing himself of the slacks as they went.

They already knew how durable her desk was. They’d done a very good job checking it to make sure it was sturdy. And the three before it that hadn’t passed their vigorous tests. But this one could probably survive a hurricane. And on that night...his wife was definitely some kind of hurricane.

She pushed him back against the cool surface, climbing on top of him in a rushed breath. Felicity straddled his waist, ripping her shirt off as if it had offended her. It was quickly followed by her bra. Although she kept her skirt bunched up around her stomach, and Oliver hooked his fingers into the material, turning him on even more.

Wasting no time, Felicity gripped his thick cock in her tiny fist, lining him up and sinking down on top of him. Oliver let out a long, loud groan as he slipped through her dripping folds, feeling her walls pulse around him instantly, tightening and pulling him into her warmth.

Oliver met her thrusts, the sound of their heavy breaths, needy moans, and skin hitting skin filling her office. And somehow, his body knew just what she needed, letting her ride him.

He gave it all to her willingly, touching her exactly where she wanted to be touched. Her orgasms hit hard and fast, but lasted longer than he'd ever seen before. They were both breathless and sweating by the time she reached her second orgasm. Yet Felicity came three more times after that, chasing the need with wild, captivating passion. Each time she came, Oliver held her as she pulsed around him, her whole body shaking with pleasure.

After her final orgasm, Felicity's head fell to the crook of his neck and her body slumped against his chest. Just as she finally exhausted them both, Oliver felt the tell-tale tingling at the bottom of his spine, listening to her satisfied moan. It was as if his body understood that Felicity had used his willing cock to get what she needed, that she'd be okay.

Wrapping both arms around his wife, he planted his feet against her desk and pumped into her, feeling her warmth pulling him in; tightening and sending an extra wave of incredible bliss through his entire body.

He came with a sharp cry, her walls still pulsing around her. Felicity's name fell from his lips over and over as he spilled inside of her, losing sight of where he ended and she began. 

When it was finally over, when he was finally able to pry his eyes open, the first thing he felt was Felicity kissing his neck. Her arms were wound tight around him, her body still resting over his as she hugged herself close. And Oliver returned it, burying his face in her neck where he knew he could feel her pulse.

It was strong and steady, making him relax. “How do you feel?” He whispered.

“Exhausted,” Felicity replied, “which is good, I suppose. I’ve never been so happy to not be able to feel my legs. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you do that to me often...but this is different. I feel better now.”

Oliver smiled, moving to sit up and taking her with him. He didn’t slip out of her until he had to maneuver himself off the desk with Felicity still wrapped around him. He carried her slowly to the couch, taking his time while he ran his fingers gently down her back. 

He’d planned on laying Felicity down, taking care of her; removing the skirt and wrapping her up in that blanket Kevin kept for her emergency naps, going to the bathroom to get a warm washcloth so he could clean her up.

But once he reached the couch, he wasn’t ready to let go of her. It felt too damn good to hold her like that, after the literal life-saving sex they'd just had. The rest could wait another minute. Oliver turned to sit, keeping Felicity in his lap. 

Her legs curled on either side of him, her head falling to his shoulder. She kissed a trail over his skin, her fingers tracing one of his scars with that admiration and familiarity he loved so much. 

She was feeling like herself again.

As she touched him, Oliver did the same, sighing and pressing his face into her naked chest. His palms sprawled her back, working up and down in slow, gentle paths. “I love you more than I could ever express, Felicity,” he whispered. He let out another breath, his heart swelling while his nose skimmed across her collarbone.

“I love you too damn much,” Felicity sighed back. Her tone was familiar, the opposite of the alarming, pent-up desperation from before.

She was satisfied. Happy. Relaxed. And very tired, thanks to her multiple orgasms. _That_ was a voice Oliver was used to.

Felicity fell asleep in his arms within minutes, before he could clean either of them up or find that blanket. But he didn’t mind, holding her a while longer. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d be sleeping that night anyway. God only knew what could happen. So having Felicity in his arms, sleeping and breathing, was just where he wanted to be.

Eventually he did get up though, taking care of her and leaving her on the couch for just a few moments while he called Roy to make sure that Mia got up and ready for school on time.

It wasn’t until she woke up again that Felicity really figured out how it had happened. 

Oliver was nestled behind her on the couch, his lips on the nape of her neck and his arms wrapped around her as he rested his eyes. He could feel her breathing, her back flush against his chest, and he opened his eyes when she turned her head.

Morning Felicity was truly a sight to marvel at. Whether she woke up refreshed with a face clear of makeup or she left her mascara on the night before and she woke up with streaks of it down her cheeks, she was so fucking beautiful.

The eyes that met his on that morning were wide, dark from her makeup and not enough sleep. And her voice was thick as she gasped, “coffee.”

Oliver’s eyebrows furrowed, “you need me to get coffee?” He asked, frowning because he wasn't quite comfortable leaving her alone yet. Not until they could run some tests on her blood and make sure the Vertigo was out of her system.

Felicity shook her head, raising her finger to point to the trashcan by her desk. He'd knocked it over the night before, accidentally kicking it when he'd bent her over the desk and pushed into her from behind.

Oliver shivered at the memory, looking at the garbage can. All that was in it was her coffee cup, sitting empty on its side in the middle of her office, the black lid on the floor a few feet away. “The drug was in my coffee," Felicity whispered.

He froze, “where did you order it from?”

“I didn’t,” she breathed. “Kevin brought it to me.”

And his Detective Brain turned on.

They were not idiots. After all these years, they both knew better than to hire someone who wasn't trustworthy. A year ago, Oliver and Felicity had both interviewed Kevin, which the poor guy had thought was a little intimidating and weird. But they'd each deemed him honorable.  _Safe_. And just in case he and his wife were both having an off week during those interviews, Oliver had put Kevin through several background checks. Some legal, some not so legal. Lyla had helped. 

If someone was going to be working closely with Felicity every day, they were all on board with making damn sure that the person could be trusted. Kevin adored Felicity. And he surely wasn't capable of murder.

“We have to figure out where he got the coffee...” Oliver mumbled, shaking his head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know,” Felicity sighed, turning in his arms to face him. “Kevin wouldn’t hurt me. Not knowingly, at least. They must be slipping the Vertigo into coffee shops in the city like the old Count did with those flu shots. We can talk to Kevin when he gets here.” Felicity sighed, biting her lip. She glanced at the cup again, "in the meantime...Archer will have a blast with that evidence. I can test it and figure out the ingredients used in this strand of Vertigo, then we can find where it's being made and by who and—”

"Hey," Oliver cocked his head to the side, “slow down, honey.” She nodded, melting into his arms again. Watching as she relaxed, Oliver nodded back before moving to get up.

“Wait,” Felicity whispered, latching onto him. “Good morning, thank you for saving my life last night with your mind-blowing sex...and I love you.” She turned her head, peppering his face and lips with kisses. Oliver closed his eyes, allowing himself another moment to hold her, feel her, comfort himself in the fact that she was alive and well.

"I love you too," he smiled. "And I suppose 'fuck or die' isn't the _worst_  dangerous scenario we've ever found ourselves in, huh?"

“See?" Felicity chuckled, "we have to joke about it at some point." She groaned, “okay, now let’s get to work.”


	16. I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one will notice

His eyes weren’t fair. Not when he was asking for forgiveness, or when he needed her to understand him, or when he told her that he loved her. And Oliver had pulled out all of those cards when he’d asked her to go. To get in the car, leave Star City, and run away with him all over again. “ _Please, Felicity,_ ” he’d begged, his voice so low and desperate. “W _e need this. We deserve this._ ”

There was a time when she’d pack her bag and go anywhere with him; no hesitation, no questions asked. But then he’d gone to prison, and they’d fought, and they’d told William he couldn’t come home until Christmas because there was too much going on, and there was still the whole 'Oliver was Barry, Barry was Oliver' thing that gave her a headache to think about.

It was a lot.

And that made her hesitate. Yet she’d end up saying yes, knowing that he was right. They needed it and they deserved it. “ _Are you sure this isn’t selfish?_ ” she’d mumbled to him when they’d finally settled into their seats on the plane. “ _Running off like this when the SCPD just agreed to work with you?"_

His eyebrow had quirked in response, peeking one eye open to look down at her. “ _You told me that the best thing for you might not be the best thing for us,_ ” he’d reminded her, making her cringe. She’d meant what she said, even though she wished she didn’t. Felicity wasn’t sure how to feel anymore. But she still hated the expression on his face. Her words had cut him. Hurt him. As much as she wished she hadn't said them, she wished even more than she never felt that way. “ _I think we’re allowed some time,"_ Oliver had assured lowly, _"just you and me. I think what’s best for both of us is each other, and I don’t think that’s selfish._ ”

It was a long flight, and Oliver spent most of it with his hands on her; his warm palm rubbing over her thigh, his fingers combing through her hair, the tip of his thumb tracing patterns on the inside of her wrist. 

When they finally landed in Aruba, it was the middle of the night.

They barely had enough energy to pick up their rental and drive it to the resort, each of them yawning and fighting to keep their eyes open the whole way. But Felicity still did, and Oliver still drove slow, and they still savored every second of the cool ocean breeze, sky full of stars, and each other.

The resort Oliver had found was gracious enough to accommodate their indecisive planning skills. It’d been over a year since Oliver booked the place, and they’d already changed the date twice. Which the receptionist poked some fun at them for with a playful, “ _you guys finally made it!_ ” upon their arrival. And they’d all laughed tiredly, a little awkwardly...since it probably wasn’t very common for newlyweds to reschedule their honeymoon. Twice.

By the time Oliver and Felicity got to their private suite, a little bungalow complete with gorgeous views, they were both too exhausted to do any exploring. They were too exhausted to do anything other than drop their bags by the front door, turn the lights off, strip off their stale plane clothes, and fall into bed. 

Oliver curled himself around Felicity with a low hum, pulling her into his arms as they faced each other. She pressed her forehead to his. His chest was warm against hers, his hand skimming down her thigh. Closing her eyes, Felicity sleepily leaned in and kissed him.

And just like that, they were on the same page. 

His fingers caught under her knee, pulling her leg up to hook it around his waist. Her breath caught in her throat while his blew across her lips. She tilted her head, the kiss deepening in a slow, effortless moment as he slid his tongue against hers; a familiar yet always delicious dance. Oliver’s hand moved to her ass, squeezing it and pulling her closer. Felicity rocked against him, feeling his hardness between her thighs. 

They didn’t say a word as he pushed through her wet folds, each of them grateful that they'd already rid themselves of their clothes, too exhausted and swept up for such nuisances. But his groan of relief matched her own as soon as he filled her. With her eyes closed, Felicity hummed, satisfied. She let her tired body move in rhythm with her husband's; her head, heart, and body there with him. Nowhere else but in his arms. Nowhere else she wanted to be.

Their hips came together in perfect, unhurried thrusts while their mouths did the same, just feeling each other, until they each found their release, Oliver’s right on the edge of Felicity’s.

Within moments, they were both asleep, still holding each other as Oliver dropped his head to the crook of her neck, trailing his nose along her collarbone.

Even the next day, neither of them felt any need to rush. Instead, they spent most of the morning in bed, only getting up to eat, shower, and open the curtains to reveal a gorgeous beach below them, which they vowed to get to, eventually.

Yet it was well into the afternoon when that finally happened.

With absolutely no regrets, Felicity finally looked up some things to do in the area and found a snorkeling boat that still had two spots open, leaving in an hour.

She and Oliver rushed through separate showers to avoid distractions. Then they quickly got ready, grabbing food for the ride. And they headed out to meet the owner of a private yacht who had advertised the trip. 

They made it to the address just in time; a massive, busy marina a few miles from the resort. And they were the last ones to arrive, finally catching their breaths as they settled into their seats with the other dozen customers. 

As the boat pulled out, the owner introduced himself, going over basic safety rules and snorkeling instructions that Felicity had to force herself to listen to. She was having a hard time keeping her eyes off the view, the crystal clear blue water that glinted in the sun. It was their second time to Aruba, but it wasn’t like it ever got boring. 

The man beside her was paying better attention, and she played with his fingers, knowing that he could fill her in on the important things when the time came.

Once the owner’s spiel was over, he explained that they’d be cruising around the bay for another hour before stopping at the diving location. 

Oliver rubbed his thumb over hers, his lips landing on her shoulder. And Felicity leaned into him, but kept her eyes on the vast sea. “Honestly,” she smiled, “as bad as this might sound...I’m so thankful that boats and oceans don’t freak you out. This is amazing.”

Her husband chuckled, his breath blowing across her skin like the breeze on her face. “I’m glad, too,” he answered. “A lot of our adventures have involved those elements...some of which I would happily repeat.”

“Yeah?” She asked, finally turning her head. “Which ones?”

He raised an eyebrow as if the answer was obvious. "You on the top deck of that cruise ship in Bermuda, for starters.”

Felicity snorted. “That still stands out for you, huh?”

He gave her a look that said ' _duh_.'

“You told me in the middle of a fancy Captain's dinner with half the ship’s guests that you weren’t wearing underwear,” Oliver mumbled, the same flash of thrill coming into his eyes that she’d seen back then. "It'll always stand out."

“Right,” she smirked, “I remember what you did about it...very fondly. Hm,” she glanced back at him, "this boat has a nice deck, too."

Oliver shook his head, a low hum sounding in her ear. “Don't tempt me, Smoak." His voice held both a warning and an invitation. The yacht was painfully smaller than the cruise ship, which meant there wasn't really an option to find a private corner of the top deck like they'd done in Bermuda...plus it had been dark when he'd pulled her away from the dinner just so he could learn for himself if she was telling the truth about her lack of underwear. And she wasn't lying. Oliver with one hand up her dress and the other covering her mouth to quiet the noises she'd made? Hot.

Felicity shivered, her eyes subtly scanning the area for a supply closet or something. Except it wasn't that subtle at all, and Oliver shook his head as he laughed, reading her mind. "Do you want a drink?”

“Sure,” she nodded, smiling at him as he unwound himself from her body and headed for the bar.

As she settled back into her seat, still trying to cool herself off from the reminder of the night Oliver brought up, her husband's place was quickly taken by a stranger. Opening her mouth, she prepared to politely inform the man that he would be back shortly. But the guy beside her cut her off before she could speak, “hi, gorgeous.”

Felicity cocked her head to the side as he winked. Truly, he didn’t seem like anything special. Definitely not special enough to be all up in her space with a cheesy line and sleazy eyebrows waggling all over the place. She tried not to roll her eyes at his attempt at sexiness. “Hello,” she nodded politely instead. “Can I help you with something?”

“You can let me buy you a drink,” he winked again, looking more like he had something in his eye. Felicity pinched her lips together, trying not to laugh at his ridiculousness. 

“My husband is already doing that,” she managed, biting back her amusement. “He’ll be back any minute.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man dropped his palm to his chest, his eyes widening in fake surprise. “I didn’t realize you’re married.” And Felicity fought not to roll her eyes again. The guy had swooped in as soon as Oliver cleared the deck. She had a ring very visibly on her finger. They were on a romantic cruise around the bay. It didn’t take a genius. 

She lifted her left hand, showing him the proof. “It’s all good. Enjoy your trip.”

The man caught her hand unexpectedly, making Felicity flinch and pull it away. He pretended not to notice, gesturing to her ring. “I guess I didn’t see it there. I thought a girl like you would have a rock on her finger more impressive than that if she was married.”

To that, Felicity huffed, offended, and stood up from her seat. 

She liked her ring. She liked its simplicity. Its promise. And she  _loved_ her husband for knowing that it was what she’d like. As she stormed off in search of the bar, since she hadn’t actually been listening when the yacht's owner told them where it was, the stranger caught her arm. “Sorry, sorry. I’m an asshole.”

“Clearly,” Felicity hissed through her teeth, pulling her arm away.

Luckily, she didn’t have to do much ass kicking or place putting. Any other time, she didn’t mind setting arrogant, rude men straight. In fact, she probably enjoyed it a little too much. But she was on her honeymoon. And Oliver was jogging down the steps from the upper level, a drink in each hand. His eyes flickered to the spot she’d been sitting, searching. And then his gaze landed on her, finding her immediately.

Her husband’s eyebrows furrowed when he saw the look on her face, and the man standing a little too close. He made his way to Felicity's side, a silent and protective force that towered above her unwanted guest.

Toe to toe with Oliver Queen like that, the guy swallowed. Noticeably intimidated. And Felicity smirked. She couldn't help but feel smug, fighting the urge to stick her tongue out and inform him of all the ways Oliver could crush him. 

“You okay?” Oliver mumbled, his gaze shifting between her and the too-touchy creep. It wasn't in either of their nature to be rude, but Felicity was about ready to toss the guy overboard if he just kept standing there, puffing out his chest even though they all knew he'd be out cold with one punch if he picked a fight with her husband.

“Alan!” A voice called over their heads, making them all glance up.

From the balcony above, a red haired woman in a pretty yellow dress smiled down at them. She waved her hand at the man in front of them, “honey, come on.”

“Oh,  _Alan_ ,” Felicity turned back slowly, glancing down at his hand. No ring, but now that she was looking closer...a tan line was clear. She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re a pig.” Alan raised his hands in surrender, moving to the stairs after his wife. Felicity watched him go, glaring and vowing to dig up some dirt on that idiot when she got home.

“What was that?” Oliver asked, handing her the drink with an unnaturally blue color. And an umbrella. She took it, muttering to herself as she watched Alan the Pig climb the stairs, pulling his ring out of his pocket and sliding it back on his finger.

She looked up at Oliver, narrowing her eyes at him now. "If you ever want to hit on other women behind my back, please don't bring me on a romantic trip to do it. And don't do it on a yacht...that I'm also on." Her lip curled in disgust.

Oliver's eyebrows pushed together, his head snapping up to the space Alan had disappeared, "that guy was hitting on you?" Felicity just rolled her eyes, waving it off before pulling Oliver back to where they'd been happily seated before the interruption. As they settled back in, Oliver pressed his lips against her temple. Felicity nestled closer, taking a sip of her drink as she watched the waves again. "By the way," he whispered, "I don't need to waste my time hitting on other women. I have far too much fun flirting with you."

Laughing, Felicity rolled her head on his shoulder, looking up at him. "Good, since my flirting is unintentional half the time, I'm willing to bet I'll be sexualizing your body until we're old and wrinkly." In response, he grinned, winking at her before dropping his lips for a quick kiss.

Determined not to sulk the rest of the ride, Felicity made a point to chat up some of their fellow vacationers; sticking to the weather and what Aruba had to offer. Oliver was a little slow to warm up, but she eventually got him socializing. Besides, she knew how he could talk about slow cookers and recipes with Laura Hoffman for hours, and they had the whole week to be alone.

Still, it wasn’t until Felicity went to introduce herself to one of the other couples that Oliver really seemed to snap into attention.

She’d noticed the little family, mostly because the two kids running around the yacht kind of stood out. Their mother sat down beside Felicity, bouncing the daughter in her lap while her husband chased the son around the deck. “Hi,” Felicity smiled at the woman, waving to the little girl. “I’m Megan. This is my husband, Jonas.”

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up before he schooled his expression, nodding to the woman who introduced herself as Cheryl.

As they talked, Felicity settled into a harmless lie, telling Cheryl that she and _Jonas_ had been married for five years and decided to take their first long trip away from their daughter. 

The woman’s eyes softened with sympathy, “first kid?”

“Oh, yes,” Felicity nodded, tossing Oliver a wink, “but not the last. We’ll have a house full of ‘em by the time we’re eighty.”

Cheryl laughed, “I said the same thing until I had two and suddenly found myself forgetting to put a bra on before I leave the house. Now the thought of a third makes me a little nauseous.”

As they talked with the woman, the picture Felicity painted wasn’t so much of a lie as much as it was a hope. And the more she gabbed about Megan and Jonas, their imaginary daughter and her imaginary personality, the more she could see Oliver realizing it.

The kids, the house, the growing old together.

The wheels were turning in his head, putting the pieces together.

Felicity had thought about all of the things she told Cheryl. And at some point Oliver's eyes had changed, watching his wife in a way that told her he saw through her. She wanted all of it, everything she made up, and he knew.

Eventually, they reached the snorkeling spot, and Cheryl waved them goodbye, preparing to get her excited, yet adorably charming kids ready to swim.

As soon as they were in the water, Oliver was pulling Felicity away from the group, leading her through the gentle waves to a cove. She cocked her head to the side, looking at him with the silly orange mask over her face. “Where are we going?”

“To the starfish,” he smiled, adjusting her goggles. Oliver, apparently, was too cool for his. He held the mask in his hand, but Felicity was afraid that if she took hers off, she wouldn’t be able to get it back on. Although it was a hassle, since she couldn’t see as well in it. Luckily Oliver guided her, maneuvering around the rocks. And his plan did  _not_ disappoint. He led her a few yards from the boat, farther than any of the others ventured, but she felt perfectly safe. “Here,” Oliver said, pointing to a spot in the water. He held his mask up to his face, looking beneath the surface.

When Felicity did the same, she saw a whole group of brightly colored starfish. They covered the sand at the bottom of the ocean floor and the surrounding coral. Felicity picked her head out of the water, a wide and excited smile on her face. “How did you know they’d be here?”

Oliver just shrugged, “right time of year, right time of day, right tides.”

“Didn’t know I married such a smarty,” she mumbled, poking his stomach. Oliver caught her hand, twining his fingers through hers. And she could have stayed in that water all night, just watching the relaxing life of the starfish, crabs, and all their fish friends, letting Oliver tell her things about marine biology she had no idea he even knew. 

Eventually, Oliver pulled her from the serene views. “We’ve got to get back soon,” he mumbled, tilting his head towards the boat. 

Felicity frowned, finally taking her goggles off. They weren't far from the yacht, but the rocks hid them, and she didn't have complete confidence that its rich owner would notice if they were missing. “Has it really been an hour?”

“Just about,” Oliver smiled, pulling her closer. “I don’t think  _Megan_ would want to be stranded out here all night.”

“Mm,” Felicity hummed, draping her arms over his shoulders. “You liked that, huh?” His lips twitched with a smile, giving her a little shrug. He did. She grinned back. “Well,” Felicity drawled slowly, running her wet fingers over his shoulders while he wrapped both arms tightly around her waist. “ _Megan_ would really like to be kissed by her husband right now.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow, looking down at her. Then he leaned in, rubbing his nose against hers sweetly, before his lips devoured hers.

His hands slid lower under the water, fingers gripping her ass. Felicity bit back a moan, her hips instantly moving towards him. “Oliver...” she pulled her mouth from his, laughing breathlessly as she glanced towards the boat. She could see the ship, see that the others were making their way back, but she couldn't find the effort to care. No one was paying them any attention. Not yet at least.

Her husband’s hands slipped up her back, twisting in her hair while he waited patiently. After a moment, Felicity met his eyes, her teeth in her bottom lip with hesitation in her eyes. Oliver just smiled, already knowing what she was thinking. His hand trailed up her thigh under the water, and she groaned. “They can’t see us,” he whispered, tilting his face closer to hers. “I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one will notice.”

Felicity inhaled sharply, his name falling from her lips when she released the breath.

"But, you know," Oliver continued, dropping his lips to her ear as he rubbed his hands all over her body; up her thighs, her hips, her back. "Sound carries out here...so just don’t scream my name as loud as you did this morning.”

She shoved his shoulder, snorting. “I didn’t know Aruba was going to bring out the spontaneous side of you,” Felicity teased. “You’re kinky today.”

He’d been full of tension ever since he came home from Slabside, and she was happy to finally begin seeing it fade. 

“You woke me up with your mouth in a very kinky place this morning, baby,” he smirked, “it was inevitable. Besides, you started it with all that fake names and role play talk.”

Felicity scoffed, “I’m not sure I’d call it role play.”

He hummed in response, his hands finding her ass again, brushing his fingers beneath her bathing suit this time. And he continued to toy with the tie on her bottoms, sending a slight thrill through her at the idea that he might just rip them off.

“What would you say...” she asked lowly, because two can play this game. “If your wife asked you to touch her right now?” Felicity spread her legs, easily hooking them around Oliver’s waist in the salty water. And she pressed her hand between them, her knuckles dragging across his hardening cock as the tips of her fingers touched her covered heat. “Right here?”

Oliver’s eyes darkened, swimming with something that made her stomach do a little flip of excitement. “I would say that my wife better not tempt me.” He spoke lowly, his voice gruff and his eyes locked on hers. Felicity bit her lip, removing her hand from her sex, and he instantly replaced it with his own. “Or else we’ll miss our boat,” Oliver sucked her bottom lip, his teeth nipping at her and sending shivers down her spine. 

“I would also say...” Oliver mumbled, his hand shifting to cup her center, rubbing his wrist against her clit as his fingers stroked over her bikini. “That my wife is hot as hell." She groaned, and he did it again, holding her closer.

Felicity’s hips surged against his hand, her mouth opening with a moan. And Oliver took full advantage, his tongue sliding against hers. She wrapped both arms around him, pushing against his fingers in desperate little thrusts.

"Do it," she whined, her hand darting down between them before he could even react. She nudged her bikini aside, and his hand made contact with her hard, sensitive clit, making her cry out.

“Damn it,” Oliver growled, his mouth still hot on hers. “We need to get back,” he huffed, pulling back while she followed. “Felicity,” Oliver slid his fingers away from her sex, stopping her. She gave him a sound of disagreement when he shifted her bottoms back in place.

As she opened her eyes, Felicity was greeted by a smirking Oliver. “You’re not going to be having such a good time if that boat leaves us stranded out here,” he teased. "Trust me. I’ve been there.”

Felicity snorted, glancing back at the boat as she unhooked her legs from his waist. “Fine, but as soon as we get back to the resort...we’re not leaving our room again for another twenty four hours.”

Oliver chuckled, kissing her cheek. “Deal,” he winked, taking her goggles as they swam back to the boat.


	17. Rain in Aruba

A/N: Sequel to chapter 16 (aka Oliver and Felicity finally get their honeymoon. And its sexy.)

* * *

It didn’t quite take them twenty four hours to venture out again. By the next morning, Felicity felt rested, satisfied, and ready for the sun again.

After a quick breakfast at the resort’s restaurant, Felicity led Oliver to the pool. Her plans for the day consisted of lounging, eating, and tanning. And of course, plenty of appreciating her gorgeous man in his swim trunks. 

Oliver Queen. Scary vigilante. In swim trunks. They had little palm trees on them. Felicity was loving it.

Then, about halfway through the afternoon, her plans also included teasing the hell out of her very sexy, palm-tree-wearing husband.

The pool was private, meant for them and the few other suites near theirs. But thanks to the ‘chilly’ day as far as Aruba was concerned, they were alone for most of the afternoon. It still felt warmer than a summer in Starling, but the slight breeze kept their neighbors away from the water.

With the sun high in the sky, Felicity stretched on her pool chair, turning over onto her stomach. She sighed, reaching behind her back to untie her bikini straps, keeping the material in place as she let the strings fall off her neck, and then her back. 

Biting back a smile, she pretended not to notice the way Oliver’s gaze zeroed in on her movements. 

His eyes were hot on her body, staring brazenly as she wiggled to get comfortable. But Felicity ignored him, waiting until she was finished before she paid him any attention. Settling her head back on her makeshift towel-pillow, she eventually squinted one eye open to look at him. And she had to try very hard not to grin when Oliver pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, staring back. His sunglasses covered his eyes, but she could  _feel_ the way he was watching her...appreciating her.

“What?” Felicity shrugged to hide a shiver, acting as if her actions were innocent. “I don’t want tan lines.”

Her husband didn’t answer, his eyes trailing from her face and down her back. He’d been gawking at her all day, which was the main reason she felt validated in teasing him. He didn’t even try to hide his staring. His eyes had been lingering on her ass for most of the day.

And as Oliver’s gaze stalled on her tanning cheeks again, Felicity grinned. 

She knew the bottoms were riding up, but she didn’t bother fixing it, enjoying herself while she soaked up as much sun as possible. And maybe enjoying that she was also soaking up Oliver’s attention, too. 

Sticking her butt in the air just a little bit, she shifted her hips more than necessary to get comfortable, just because she had a sexy husband who kept noticing. And it was way too much fun to see the look on his face.

Felicity closed her eyes and hummed, unbothered. She tilted her face towards the sun, stretching a little more.

Finally, Oliver spoke. “What are you doing?”

Frowning, Felicity blinked up at him, letting confusion settle on her features. “Basking in the last hours of sunshine.”

He pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing at her suspiciously. “You’re up to something,” Oliver mumbled, his eyes roaming from her face to her toes and back up again. “I’m not sure I like it.”

“Hm,” she raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, if my sun tanning seems so off-putting to you, Oliver...I can cover up. Or better yet, you can find your own pool to lay out by.”

His eyes narrowed even more, giving her one small shake of his head. 

Still not giving in, Felicity simply shrugged. Then she turned her head to the other side, away from him, and closed her eyes again.

There wasn’t a chance in hell that she was about to admit she was teasing him, that she knew exactly what she doing. She’d rather see what he did next.

Since she hadn’t heard him move, Felicity gasped a few minutes later when Oliver’s hand covered her thigh. The familiar coolness of sunscreen touched her skin. She lifted her head to see him, watching as he slowly and carefully rubbed the sunscreen in, taking his time and squeezing her ass unabashedly when he reached it.

Then he leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to her hip.

Felicity’s eyes darted to the side, surprised at him. 

It wasn’t like there was anyone else around, but the pool wasn’t exactly private, anyone could come through the gate. Yet Oliver didn’t seem to care, trailing his mouth to the small of her back so he could drop another kiss against her skin there.

He grinned when he saw the look on her face. Felicity smiled back, leaning into his hands as they took their time massaging her. Oliver leaned down to kiss her, his lips gorgeously salty with sweat. She sighed as he pulled back. 

“There,” he whispered, swatting her freshly sunblocked ass. “I think we’ve safely avoided ‘miserable lobster’ territory today.” Leaning back into his own chair, he tossed the sunscreen bottle aside.

“Thank you.”

“Any time,” Oliver adjusted his sunglasses back over his eyes, making him look unfairly like a supermodel of some sort. Felicity rolled over, carefully keeping her bikini in place as she retied the straps. 

Oliver kept his eyes closed, and Felicity had a feeling he was trying very hard to do so. She let out a sigh as she settled back into her chair, lying on her back so she could stare at him like he’d been staring at her all day.

She glanced down his body, the beautiful array of scars and muscles that always seemed to take her breath away. It was even more wonderful to see his body like this, soaking up the sun as he finally got to relax...palm tree swimsuit and all.

Well,” Oliver mumbled after a few minutes, turning to look at her. His hand reached out, skimming over her bare stomach. “I think you need some more sunscreen,” his fingers trailed up to her chest. “I didn’t put any here...” The nail of his index finger grazed over her nipple unexpectedly, making her breath catch in her throat.

Sucking in a breath, Felicity sat up, brushing his hand off. “No, no,” she shook her head.

He’d caught on to her games, and apparently he decided to play. But that was dangerous, because as far as those kinds of games went...Oliver Queen knew how to tease the hell out of her. “No need,” Felicity rushed, standing up and stretching. She’d been in the chair for most of the day, and she could use a bit of movement.

Oliver raised an eyebrow, “where are you going?”

“Uh...” 

He was grinning at her, looking like he was already gloating in his victory in whatever terrible game she’d started. 

Since arriving in Aruba, they’d barely made it a few hours without sex. Maybe she should quit. Accept defeat. Drag Oliver back up to their room and let him tease her in better ways...

But that would mean he’d won. 

Cold water sounded nice. “For a swim,” Felicity breathed, stepping towards the pool.

It’d been so long since he’d been in a playful mood like this, relaxed and smiling at her with that boyish charm...their honeymoon was apparently bringing out the best of it. And she wasn’t going to quit yet.

Without sparing him a glance, Felicity walked over to the pool to put her feet in, her hips swinging lazily as her bare feet padded across the warm concrete. And his eyes burned on her back the whole time. She took another step into the water, letting it touch her calves. Felicity glanced over her shoulder at her husband, meeting his eyes immediately. “Coming?” She asked, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

He nodded adamantly, standing up and following after her. Felicity chewed on her lip, watching those delicious muscles and scars of the man she loved, on full display in the sun. “Stupid Greek God of a husband,” she mumbled.

Oliver wasn’t close enough to hear it, but the way he smiled at her let her know that he knew she’d said  _something_ about his stupid gorgeous body.

That smile always pulled at her heart strings. The way he softened a bit at her compliments, at her appreciation for all things  _him_... Felicity sighed, tearing her eyes away and walking in to her waist before looking back at Oliver.

As he slowly trailed after her, Felicity moved away, pushing back through the water, swimming out deeper. He cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing as he realized that she was still playing with him. And Felicity giggled.

“Get back here,” he smirked. And she shook her head, swimming to the other side of the pool. Felicity rested her arms on the edge, watching as Oliver slowly trailed after her.

When he reached her, cornering her as she tread water, Felicity lifted her chin. His hands grabbed the lip of the pool where she floated, caging her head between his arms. She was certain that the look in his eyes was far from innocent. Felicity brought her hand to his cheek, watching as water dripped from her wet finger and onto his warm skin, disappearing in his shadowed jaw. “Hi,” she whispered lowly, letting her breath blow over his lips.

“You’re teasing me,” he stared down his nose at her, his eyes sparking with that playfulness she loved. That she hadn’t seen since before he left for Slabside. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it. 

Her palms smoothed over his cheeks, water dripping down his neck. “I know,” Felicity drawled. “But I’m having fun.” She scratched her fingers through his slight beard, grateful he’d let her shave it. “Aren’t you?”

“Oh yes,” he nodded, a smile pulling at his lips. “I’m enjoying all of the  _fun_ I’ve been having with you since we got here...although I wasn’t sure where you were going with those fake names and that life story you made up on the yacht last night...”

Felicity snorted, “Megan and Jonas were a one-time deal. Don’t get any ideas, mister. I have my hands full with you as you are, we don’t need to bring role playing into this marriage.”

He smirked, his body shifting closer, his chest pressing against hers. “I don’t know...I kind of liked the picture you painted. ‘Jonas’ as a stay at home dad while ‘Megan’ ran her own company. It didn’t sound all that far-fetched or role play-ish to me.”

“I can’t picture you as a stay at home dad,” Felicity scrunched her nose, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her legs followed suit, winding around his waist under the water.

“No?” Oliver asked, shrugging. “I don’t think I’d mind. I’m not saying it’s an easy job, but I could imagine enjoying that...after everything.” He bit his lip, whispering, “I kind of like the idea quite a bit, actually.”

Felicity brushed her fingers over his ears and through his hair, meeting his eyes, “Well...when you put it like that...” she smiled, and he smiled back. “Smoak Tech can make us millions. You can stay home with the kids. The city will be safe for us to raise a family. That doesn’t sound like a bad life at all.”

“Not at all,” Oliver breathed, his hands moving up her back, pushing under the strap of her bikini top. “How many are you thinking?” He smirked, “and when should we start?”

She giggled, scrunching up her nose again. “How many are  _you_ thinking?”

Oliver pinched his lips together and shook his head, giving her the feeling that his number was much higher than hers. Felicity narrowed her eyes, “At least one.”

“And at most?”

“Four.”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by the answer. “Four kids, huh?” Oliver pulled his lips to the side, contemplating. It was a conversation they’d had before, but it felt more real now. Like they could actually start their life together. 

He was home.

Felicity nudged him, urging him to give his number. “I’d be happy with one,” Oliver shrugged, “I’d be happy with ten...as long as it’s you and me making them.”

Rolling her eyes, Felicity drove her hips forward, enjoying the way his breath caught in his throat as she rubbed against him under the water. “I kind of like the idea of starting over where no one knows us,” Felicity admitted. “Where ‘Megan’ and ‘Jonas’ are just two ex-superheroes trying to raise some badass children.”

“Yeah?” He asked, his voice a little breathless.

Felicity nodded, enchanted with the peaceful look glossing over his eyes. “Someday...” She sighed.

Nodding, Oliver reached down to her ass, cupping it in each hand, “Is it bad if this conversation is turning me on?”

Felicity chuckled, “no. It just reminds me of what we need to  _do_ to make babies. And we’re very,  _very_ good at that.”

“We are. Now?” He whispered, his eyes darkening.

Biting her lip, Felicity groaned.

Oliver kissed her cheek, pushing her back against the wall more, his lips trailing to her ear where he whispered, “Sex in a pool...don’t think we’ve done that yet.”

“Oliver,” Felicity sucked in a breath. They knew from experience that neither of them had mastered staying  _quiet_ whenever he was inside of her. And she was pretty sure that their privacy wasn’t  _that_ private. 

Yet...

Felicity felt Oliver’s fingers grip her ass, moving her, rubbing her against his erection. And her eyes slipped shut, her head falling back and almost hitting the concrete lip behind her, but Oliver’s hand darted up to catch it. 

He laughed gently in her ear, the sound arousing her even more. Oliver tipped her head back up, pressing kisses to the corner of her mouth. She sighed, leaning into his lips. 

The need for him that bubbled up inside of her was surprising and overwhelming. And just like him, it consumed her, making her forget about everything else. With a gentle groan, Felicity gave in, reaching for the waist of his swim trunks. 

“We really have to be quiet,” she gasped, turning her head to kiss him further.

Oliver’s head jolted back just as she opened her mouth, her teeth about to graze his bottom lip. Oliver grabbed her hand at his waist, his eyes snapping down to her face. And then his eyes widened, seeing that she was serious.

“Honey,” he gaped at her, “I was only kidding...I thought—I thought we were doing a thing—a teasing a thing.” He cracked a smile, raising his eyebrows at her. “There’s sex in risky places...and then there’s just asking to be kicked out of this resort.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “We can’t do  _that_... _here_.”

“Oh,” Felicity made a face, realizing that she’d forgotten all about the torturous teasing game, but Oliver hadn’t. She snapped her mouth shut. “Right. Duh,” Felicity rolled her eyes, “totally. I was kidding too.” 

She fidgeted to slip out of his hold but Oliver kept her caged between his arms.

“You would’ve let me fuck you right here,” Oliver smirked, shaking his head at her in disbelief. “Pull your bikini bottoms to the side...like you wanted me to yesterday. And you called  _me_ kinky,” he winked.

Narrowing her eyes, Felicity unhooked her legs from around his waist, pushing him off as he grinned down at her. Smug as hell. “What?” Oliver teased. “It’s okay, baby. I already know how... _enthusiastic_ you can get,” he kept taunting her, and she pushed him a little harder, swimming away. 

“Hey,” Oliver frowned, “where are you going?”

“I’m going to my side of the pool,” Felicity called back. “You can stay in yours. Over there.”

His frown deepened, “you’re putting me in time out?”

“Yup,” she shrugged, resting her arms on the edge of the pool, looking out at the setting sun over the mountains.

With a sigh, Oliver chased after her again, and she had to admit...she liked being chased by him. 

He slid onto the step beside her, his hand gripping her thigh under the water. Then he leaned in to kiss her, “you can’t be mad at me,” Oliver grumbled playfully, “I might have the kinkiest wife ever, but I never said I don’t like it. I  _love_ it.”

Felicity pouted, “I’m not kinky.”

At that, Oliver raised an eyebrow as if to say;  _our sex life says otherwise. Don’t lie to me._

Her eyes narrowed, dodging his lips as he leaned in again. 

Truth be told, she didn’t mind being called ‘kinky’ at all. Oliver didn’t need to tell her how much he enjoyed it...she’d realized that a long time ago.

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty,_ ” he sighed her name, that sexy tone in his voice that he knew drove her crazy. 

Not this time... 

Oliver cupped her cheek, moving in again to kiss her. 

She grinned, tilting her head away. And got her jaw, shaking his head as she giggled. But Oliver just got a different idea, dragging his mouth over her chin and down her throat, sucking and nipping the whole way.

Despite herself, her eyes slipped shut, her legs falling open when his hand nudged between them. Oliver’s fingers pressed against her center, making her moan. Her hips writhed in the water, grinding against his hand. And Oliver hummed, his arm winding around her shoulders, giving her head a place to drop. “Is it better if I call you  _sexy_?” His mouth ghosted outside her ear. “Because I  _definitely_ have the sexiest wife ever.”

“You think so, huh?”

“I do,” his teeth gently grazed her ear.

Getting one more idea, Felicity pushed his hand away, closing her legs. She ignored his grumble, pulling his sunglasses off his face and setting them aside. Then she smirked, meeting his eyes. “You think I’m sexy?”

His eyebrows shot up, either at her tone or the fact that she even had to ask. He didn’t dignify it with a response, his head tilting, his eyes watching her curiously.

“I never would’ve guessed,” Felicity continued, her voice full of sarcasm as she slid out from under his arm. She shifted to sit on her knees beside him in the shallow water, looking at him over her shoulder. And she raised an eyebrow. “You’ve only been staring at my ass all day...”

Determined to out-tease him, or whatever little competition they were in, Felicity set her hands on the step in front of her, moving slowly as she spread out in the water, resting her elbows on the stair and keeping her leg flush against her husband’s.

The sharp breath he took was just what she wanted to hear.

“Felicity,” Oliver groaned, draping his hand over her waist, his fingers digging into her hip to pull her closer.

At his insistence, she scooted against him, her hand landing on his leg, scratching her nails against his calf.

Humming, Felicity slowly lifted her ass out of the water, feeling the cool air as goosebumps rose on her wet skin. Oliver’s hand slowly slipped over it, another groan falling from his lips. 

“Beautiful view, huh?” Felicity teased, nodding towards the sunset in front of them. 

His eyes shifted from the mountains to her face, then her ass where his fingers dug in harder. And she lifted her hips higher in the air, wiggling slightly. Oliver let out a sharp breath, his eyes darkening.

“Felicity,” Oliver hissed her name this time, relenting. “You win. Whatever game we’re playing...you win.”

She practically purred as he gripped her ass, glancing at him over her shoulder. “What do I win?” Felicity pouted in response.

His eyes were wide, his expression holding true to his next whispered words, “whatever you want.”

“Hmm,” Felicity still taunted him, pretending to think. And then she tossed her leg over his thighs, her butt right in front of him now, and she slid back.

“Shit, Felicity,” he gasped, both of his hands instinctively grabbing her hips, pulling her closer.

She chuckled, rolling her hips against him, the water lapping at her thighs. “How are you feeling about pool sex  _now_ , Mr. Queen?”

“I’m being persuaded,” he whispered back breathlessly. 

His hands covered her cheeks again, urging her on. And she felt his hard length beneath her as she moved back and forth in the water. Felicity planted her hands on his calves, her nails digging in. 

“Felicity,” he groaned her name, his fingers tightening. “Turn around.”

Nodding, Felicity shifted until she was facing him, still straddling his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled. Oliver smiled back, staring up at her as he guided her hips to move, grinding down on him.

His eyes slipped shut, rolling back while he dropped his head to her chest, covering the tops of her breasts in wet kisses. Felicity’s fingers dove into his hair, holding him closer.

One hand lifted to her hardening nipple, teasing it between his fingers. 

Felicity gasped as he pinched and pulled at her breast through the soaking material of her bikini. Then his mouth took its place, and Felicity’s eyes flew open to look down at him, a shot of pleasure rushing from the nipple his lips were wrapped around, to her sex.

“Yes,” she whined, reaching between them. Felicity covered his hard cock with her hand, squeezing him over his bathing suit. 

She tossed her head back, offering him her chest, and his lips explored. 

With her face tilted towards the sky, Felicity felt a drop of rain hit her cheek, and she opened her eyes. The sun was still setting behind her, but the clouds directly overhead were a little darker. A passing rain cloud.

Felicity chuckled under her breath, taking it as a sign from the gods that they wouldn’t be getting any company anytime soon.

If a slight breeze on a warm day was enough to keep the people in Aruba away, then a little rain at dusk was practically a guarantee that no one would be joining them.

“ _Oliver_.”

He let go of her breast, picking his head up to look at her. His eyes met hers for a brief moment. Then he glanced up at the sky, and a few drops of rain landed on his face and shoulder. 

When Oliver met her eyes again, she knew he was thinking the same thing.

Silently, Felicity slipped her hand into his shorts, gripping him tightly and listening to his groan of pleasure. She pulled his cock free, grinding against him, seeking friction. And Oliver shoved her bikini bottoms to the side, lining himself up at her entrance. 

With their shallow breaths mingling from their parted lips, Oliver looked up at Felicity. And they shared a smile, each realizing that they very well might be forced to find a new resort by morning...but it would be worth it.


	18. Only Her

I started this for a smut prompt (to be posted here later) but decided to do something else with it. I still like this moment (and all S7 reunion sex ideas, let's be honest) so I thought I'd share it even though it's short!

* * *

There was only her.

Only the smell of her rain soaked hair sprawled out on the pillow behind her head. Only the sweet taste of her skin under his lips as he kissed her neck. Only the sound of her breathy sighs, his name mixed in there, somewhere, filling the dimly lit motel room that fell away more and more by the second.

She’d saved him.

Most recently from a corrupt prison system.

But long before that, too.

Oliver had been counting the days until he saw her again. Even though he wasn’t sure he’d ever have this day to look forward to. Still, he tallied them up...just hoping, praying, _needing_ to believe that he was getting closer to  _this_.

Felicity was finally within his touch again, and he couldn’t think of anything he’d rather be doing with his hands. Or his mouth. Those thoughts of being with her again weren’t just dreams to keep him sane at Slabside. She was right there in front of him. And he couldn’t keep his hands off her.

But he didn’t know what to say. 

There was plenty to tell her, and even more to apologize for. Yet, while they had to wait out the storm for the night, stuck in a motel on their way home, touching her took priority. She needed to be touched. Pleased. Loved.

“Yes,” his wife sighed in his ear, her lips hot on his skin, making him groan. She tilted her mouth towards him more, her teeth and tongue getting involved, and Oliver shivered.

Her hand cupped his cheek, pressing him closer, and it still felt just as good as it had when they were standing outside the prison. When she’d touched his face for the first time in months. It felt just as sweet as it had when they’d first arrived at the motel and she’d cleaned him up, her palm on his face, anchoring him.

But he didn’t know what to say.

Oliver knew how he felt. About her, about their life, about what he wanted. His heart beat because of this woman.  _For_ this woman. He just wanted to make sure she still knew that.

Lifting his head from Felicity's throat, Oliver settled over her. Their hips met with blissful friction as she cradled him between her thighs, her toes gliding over his ankles. 

Staring down at her, Oliver begged Felicity to see everything he was feeling. How much he appreciated her strength and steadiness. How much peace she brought him. How thoroughly he adored her, and adored being hers. Felicity’s hands trailed slowly over his shoulder blades, up his neck, until her fingers could skim through his beard. It was familiar, because it was her. And it was surreal, because it had been so long.

But he didn’t know what to say.

Felicity smiled, her touch the most gentle, grounding thing he’d ever felt. 

“Hi,” she whispered.

Oliver sighed, smiling down at her even though his new scars made it sting a little. He dropped his forehead to hers, nuzzling her nose with his. “Hi,” he breathed back.

At the sound of his voice, thick with the overwhelming emotions inside of him, Felicity whimpered. His desire was tangible, and she reached for it, not letting it delay her for even a moment.

With a sharp breath, she lifted her head to meet him, her lips catching his in a searing kiss. Felicity moaned into his mouth, her hips rising from the bed. His wife’s slick heat welcomed him, making him twitch, and he slipped between her folds. Oliver gasped, his body moving on its own desperate need. Felicity thrusted up, wetting his cock, pleasuring herself along the length of him and keening each time he rubbed against her clit.

“Oh, god,” Oliver closed his eyes. The look on her face was way too much for him. He dropped his head to her shoulder and held still for a moment. She was so wet, so sweet, so perfect. Her cries sent sparks of pleasure through him.

Knowing that Felicity had no plans of stopping this, and that he'd come in a matter of seconds, Oliver pulled back.

Felicity yelped at the sudden absence between her thighs, and Oliver’s eyes snapped down to look at her, his breath catching along with hers. She ran her nails down his chest as he sat up, watching him curiously but letting him go.

Kneeling on the bed above her, Oliver let his gaze wander. Her swollen lips that he needed to brush his thumb over. Her perfect, pale nipples that he couldn’t resist wrapping his lips around, sucking on each of them with the attention they deserved. He groaned when her nails dug into him again, wanting more. As he pulled back, Oliver's eyes fell down her body again, taking her in. His hands dragged from her ankles to her calves. And he swallowed hard, resisting the urge to kiss every inch of her skin.

With his jaw tightly clenched, Oliver gently pushed Felicity’s knees apart. She spread her legs for him, giving him a full view of her naked sex, glistening from her nether lips to her thighs. Then he bent down, pressing gentle kisses up her legs. Reaching the juncture, Oliver licked his lips, taking in a breath through his nose, smelling the sweet scent on her skin.

Felicity let out a sharp breath, anticipating what he wanted to do, and he glanced up to meet her eyes. She just watched him, her mouth slack and her eyelids heavy. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as he stared up at her. Oliver let out a gentle growl, his need for her hitting new heights. Heights they'd never reached before, new levels of desire thanks to the unwanted time apart. The air between them was different than ever before.

He smirked as her fingers combed through his hair, urging him towards her center...just like they always did when she thought he was taking too long.

God, he’d missed that. 

His impatient, gorgeous girl.

Breathing her in, Oliver teased her just a moment longer, his focus still hot on her expression as he leaned in. And he really enjoyed seeing her eyelids slam shut, her back arching in anticipation, when he dropped an innocent kiss against her wet sex. Then another one. And another. Felicity's hand covered one of her breasts, her fingers pinching at her pebbled nipple, and Oliver hummed, deepening the kiss. Finally, he slid his tongue between her folds, his teeth scraping against her sensitive clit.

Felicity moaned loudly, spurring a groan of his own, and her hands tightened in his hair. “Yes, Oliver, oh god, yes.” Words escaped her lips in breathless babbles; some dirty, delicious things that made him growl, and others so rushed and wild that he couldn’t make it out. But he loved ever second of it.

Oliver flattened his tongue against her hard nub, gently licking her, building her up until she couldn't take it anymore. Felicity angled her hips towards him, and he gripped her thighs with tight fingers as she thrusted shallowly against his face. He groaned, feeling her reach for him, her fingers grabbing his hands to hold onto. Oliver pulled her legs over his shoulders, settling her thighs on each side of his face. And he picked his head up to look at her, watching as she writhed, her eyes wide and trained on him. Then he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked, pushing two fingers inside of her at the same time, curling them.

Felicity gasped, bucking against him, riding out her orgasm as she rode his fingers. Oliver sucked harder, letting her move however she wanted. He could feel her falling over the edge as his stubbled chin grazed her sex. And when her body tensed, Felicity screamed his name, pulsing around him. He hummed, curling his fingers deeper, wanting her orgasm to last as long as possible.

Finally, a pained yelp broke from her throat, and he knew the sound. Oliver leaned back just as Felicity's hands reached for his face to stop him with a breathless, “too much, too much.”

He crawled up her lithe body, stopping along the way to kiss her stomach, breasts and chest, paying close attention to her breathing, making sure that she _was_ breathing again. Taking a moment to nip at her throat, Oliver heard the breathy, satiated laughter that he'd been dreaming about ever since the first time he'd heard it. Settling above her, Oliver eagerly stared down at the expression on her face that matched the sound. 

There was nothing quite like his wife's satisfied chuckle whenever she was coming down from an orgasm. Or the relaxed, sexy smile on her face, Or the wayward sense of pride that filled him, knowing he’d been the one to make her feel this good. 

"You've somehow gotten better at that since the last time we did it," Felicity rasped.

Oliver shook his head in response, "I just really missed the way you taste..." He smirked as he looked down at her face, waiting for her eyes to open.

After a long moment, she did, but it wasn’t the gorgeous, blissed out, wide pupils he expected to be staring up at him. Felicity inhaled sharply, desperation behind her gaze that made him pause. “I need to feel you,” she whimpered.

Oliver held his breath, not realizing how badly he needed that too until she said it. He nodded adamantly as Felicity reached between them. Not wasting a moment, she wrapped her hand around his cock, rubbing it against her sensitive sex.

Her other hand gripped his ass, sharp nails pulling him closer. “Ah,” Felicity winced, her hand tightening around his cock and sending a wave of pleasure down his back.

Oliver paused, watching her face from where he held himself above her. “Okay?”

Felicity nodded, urging him closer. And Oliver groaned, sliding home as they both exhaled, their breaths mingling.

“God, I love you,” he sighed, his eyes roaming over her face, taking in everything and burning it to his memory. There wasn’t a single inch of her that he would ever take for granted. Felicity whimpered, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. Her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes slipping shut. The expression on her face only lasted a moment, but Oliver saw it. 

And realization hit.

He hadn’t said it yet.

He hadn’t said much at all.

Although Oliver was certain that his wife could feel how much he loved her and that she knew it now more than ever...she deserved to hear it a million times over. 

“Felicity,” he whispered, pulling out of her almost completely before pushing back in, feeling her silken walls squeeze around him. Oliver forced his eyes to stay open. “I love you,” he told her, the words a promise. "For now and for the rest of our lives, do you hear me?" Felicity nodded quickly, her hips moving to meet his.

He didn't know the right words to say to her, but he'd never regret letting her know how much of his heart she truly had a hold of.

Felicity’s hands slid up Oliver's forearms, finding his hands on the pillow above. Her fingers slowly twisted through his, neither of them caring as their hands tangled in her hair, too. 

It felt perfect. 

"Welcome home," Felicity whispered, offering him a gentle smile. And he knew she didn't mean the motel room, yet he'd never felt more at home.

“I love you,” Oliver couldn't help it now, repeating the words again and again as his body moved with hers in a perfect rhythm until they were a joint mess of pleasure.

And his heart warmed when he heard the same words whispered back to him. The same promise.


End file.
